Over the Rainbow
by In Box Five
Summary: Modern AU. Christine is a student at Columbia University and when she begins taking music classes, she finds herself simultaneously intimidated and entranced by her enigmatic masked professor... E/C, Raoul-friendly
1. Scarecrow Returns

**Disclaimer: **Sadly, I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any of the characters. Leroux, Webber, Kay, etc. have dibs on the characters. :'-( Personally I would fight any one of them for Erik. :-)

**A/N:** Bonjour, dear readers! This is my first dalliance with Phanfiction, I generally write originals, but this one popped into my head and I thought I'd give it a shot. :) I mean, c'mon, Erik and Christine are just begging for the teacher-student thing to be explored.

**_Please note that this is a modern AU_**, so while I keep with the POTO premise/inspiration, I have a bit of creative leeway, too. For instance, Erik will be tamer; as his life was different (he did not run away as a child and get nabbed by a freak show, for example) the result also has to be different. He should still be awesome, however, unless I miss my mark. ;) Also, it is not set in Paris, but New York City instead, because why not? :) My Christine… well, I'm keeping close to Emmy Rossum's Christine, because I liked hers most.

Happy reading!

* * *

**_Chapter One_**

* * *

The first day back to school was always a little hectic.

As Christine Daaé made her way from her exhausting comparative religion class to the music department for her music theory class, she clutched her syllabus in one hand, coffee in the other, tried to hold her arm full of books without spilling the coffee, and had the audacity to believe she could also answer her cell phone.

"Hello?" she answered, managing to get the phone on her shoulder and barely touching her ear.

"Hey!" her best friend, Meg Giry, replied. "Are we going to meet for lunch?"

"Lunch? When?"

"Well, it's nearly noon, and isn't that the conventional lunch time?"

"Probably for someone who isn't about to go to her music theory class. I probably wouldn't be able to meet you until around 1:30…"

"Boo. I have a class at 1:45. I thought you decided not to take that music theory class."

"Yeah, well… I figured that since I still have so many open electives, I could take just this one class. It's not like I'm going to switch majors or anything, but this class… the time fit well with my other classes, and… Sara Borelli did tell me that the instructor is pretty laid back, so it shouldn't be too hard."

"Ugh, she's such a skank; why do you talk to her?"

Vaguely grinning, Christine said, "Hey, she has fun stories. Anyway, I am about… a centimeter away from losing my hold on my books, and I really don't want to be late to class…"

"You're such a goody goody, Christine. You're _allowed _to be late to class the first day. Just say you couldn't find the room."

"I'll call you when I get home, you can tell me about class before I have to go to work."

"You have to _work _on top of that? It's the first day back to school; we may never have another homework free Monday night."

"It is _Monday _night," Christine reiterated. "We'll go out Friday."

"Fine. I'm staying at your place though; my roommate is bulimic and she has this penchant for midnight snacking. All we need is her vomit smell radiating around the apartment when we're trying to let loose."

Grimacing, Christine said, "Wow, thank you for that."

"Anytime," Meg said cheerfully. "Talk to you later!"

Christine said goodbye and lifted her head, trying to drop the phone gracefully on top of her books, but missing altogether and dropping it on the ground.

Growling a little at herself, she tried to reposition all of her stuff so she could bend down and get her phone. Eyeing the people shuffling past her, she wondered if there was any possibility that one of them wouldn't trample her the moment she tried. It seemed to her that coffee was going to end up all over her one way or another.

"Christine Daaé?" a voice said from several feet away.

Glancing up into the grinning tanned face of a guy she didn't immediately recognize, she merely frowned at the fact that he knew her name.

The blonde haired man bent down and retrieved her phone for her, holding it out but raising his eyebrows at the stack of books in her arm. "Wow, have you considered investing in a messenger bag?"

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" she asked, not meaning to be rude, but lacking the time to deal with some random guy trying to make her late to class.

"Ouch," he said, dramatically clasping his hand to his heart. "You wound me, Dorothy."

Her eyebrows shot up again, and for a split second she thought perhaps the man had lost his mind.

Then she did a quick overview of his face once more, the blue eyes, the too-smooth good looks…

Gasping triumphantly, she said, "I remember you now! You're the scarecrow!"

"I must not be as memorable without the straw hat," he said gravely.

"Wow," she said, absently looking him over again. They had been 11 the last time she saw him, and she couldn't believe he had even remembered her. Raoul Chagny had been in that awkward stage of life where he was too tall, his head was too big, his limbs were too thin, and his voice was just entering that uncomfortable cracking period. He had been as gawky as she had been, with her braces and her frizzy brown curls. The years had been kinder to both of them; Raoul had developed muscle and matured into a rather nice form, while Christine also grew into her body, lost the braces, and discovered hair products as well as the magical straightening iron.

"How have you been?" he asked.

"I'm… I've been… I'm okay," she said, awkwardly shaking her head as she tried to clear up her mental confusion. "I can't believe you recognized me. I haven't seen you since we were in The Wizard of Oz together, and I do like to think that I look different…"

"Oh, no doubt about it," he said, giving her an appreciative but respectful once-over. "You look amazing. I don't know how I recognized you either, but how could I ever forget my first kiss?" he asked with a little wink.

Laughing a little, she had a flash of memory and she saw her 11-year-old self standing behind the community theater's set for Dorothy's house and Raoul leaning in and giving Christine her first kiss. It had been awkward, they had both turned as red as apples, and when the "crows" came to drag them out onto the stage Raoul had become so nervous he forgot his lines.

It wasn't the stuff of romance, but it really was memorable. The experience in and of itself had been enough to end Raoul's stage career last she heard.

"Did you ever get over your fear of the stage?" she asked, grinning.

"Definitely not," he replied, shaking his head. "I gave up drama and switched over to sports. No lines to remember that way."

"That's too bad. You made a good scarecrow."

"Eh, I didn't make such a bad jock, either. Too bad we didn't go to the same school, you could have come to my games," he said with a little wink.

"Yeah, sure," she agreed lightly, knowing that she would sooner pluck out her eyelashes than sit through a sporting event of any kind.

"Well, hey, we go to the same school now," he pointed out. "I'm on the basketball team _and _the football team; you should catch one of my games sometime."

"Oh yeah, totally," she lied, nodding enthusiastically.

"Well, I should probably get to class," he said, although with another once-over, he looked reluctant to walk away. Then, as if a light bulb went off over the scarecrow's head, he said, "Hey, why don't I give you my number and we could grab a bite to eat sometime and catch up."

"Um… yeah, sure, we could do that," she said, mentally noting that he wanted _her _to call _him _when she felt that it should be the other way around.

Since he was still holding her cell phone, he simply opened up her menu and put himself into her contacts.

Adding to the mental note that he seemed not to respect other people's privacy, she already decided she wasn't going to call him.

"Mind if I call my phone so I have yours?" he asked.

Damn.

"Nope, not a bit," she replied passively.

"Great," he said, offering a cute little grin and then calling his phone. When it started vibrating, he grabbed his phone and entered her name into his.

She noticed he wasn't carrying _any _books, but she didn't have the time or inclination to inquire as to why. Instead she merely took the phone, crushing it under her books and said, "Thanks. Well, I've got to get to class, so I'll see you around."

"Yeah, definitely," he said with a nod. "I'll call you later."

"All right," she returned, already heading off toward her class.

Unfortunately, her run-in with Raoul ran her behind schedule, and she tried to run to catch the elevator, but she just missed it. The students packed inside watched her run toward it, didn't bother to hold the door for her, and then watched as the doors shut in her face. Since waiting for the elevator would take too much time, she went for the stairs. By the time she reached the hallway with her music room, she had sloshed coffee all over her class schedule _and _her hand, so she couldn't read the room number. There were two occupied classes among the three rooms that she knew it might be, and her first guess was room 353. Peeking her head inside, a woman standing at the podium turned toward her as she was talking—already going over the syllabus, Christine realized with a sinking heart—and she paused, allowing Christine an opportunity to ask if she was in the right room.

"I'm sorry. Is this fundamentals of music theory?"

Shaking her head, the woman pointed toward the hallway and said, "That's room 355—and you better hurry; he has no tolerance for tardiness, even on the first day."

With a vague groan, Christine withdrew from the room and practically sprinted two doors down. The class room wasn't quite full, but the class itself still had a few openings, and she saw the man she presumed to be the professor walking across the front of the room. His door was already closed, and when she opened it, naturally the thing just had to squeak, drawing even more attention to her late entrance.

Grimacing, she squeezed inside and shut the door behind her.

The professor pointedly ceased talking and turned toward her.

"I'm sorry," she said, barely able to find her voice as she averted her face away from his rather intense golden brown gaze. "I went to the wrong room."

"Have a seat Miss Daaé or Miss Montez."

"Daaé," she supplied.

With a vague grunt, he marked something down on his paper. "As I mentioned two minutes ago when this class started, tardiness is not appreciated in my classroom. If you are late to my class two more times, you lose a letter grade, and I don't offer extra credit."

Sinking down into the first empty seat she saw, Christine gave an apologetic nod. Strangely enough, even though it wasn't the first thing she noticed about the professor, she realized as she looked up at him that he was wearing a mask. The professor was a tall man with nearly black hair, and while the left side of his face was composed of a sternly slanted black eyebrow, a rather unique golden hued eyes, high, well-formed cheekbones, slightly irregularly shaped lips, and strong jaw, the right side of his face was completely covered with a skin colored mask, only his eye visible through the hole.

"As I was mentioning when Miss Daaé arrived, those of you taking this class as an elective may want to reconsider. I generally don't instruct students on such a low level; I am filling in this semester as the previous instructor of this class passed away at the end of summer, and no replacement has been appointed yet. In the event that you'd like to see me again after this semester, I also teach a chromatic harmony and counterpoint class regularly, as well as working with the school's orchestra and singing department. All of my other students are serious about music and they are more than willing to dedicate themselves. This class will _not _be an easy A. We are not going to learn our way around the scales and then spend the rest of the semester listening to Mozart and writing reflections. You will be expected to keep up, attend class—this is in your syllabus, but three absences will also result in a lost letter grade unless you have a doctor's note or death certificate—and complete all of quizzes and homework assignments on time. I do not grade on a curve. I do _not _accept late assignments. You will get whatever grade you earn. Homework, in one form or another, will be given _each _class—if you've passed your math classes already, you've probably surmised that this means you will have _three _assignments minimum per week, and since we're lucky enough to have a class on Friday, I will probably give you more involved homework to complete over the weekend."

One brave—or stupid—soul in the back of the class groaned.

The teacher's gaze snapped to that student and even three minutes in knew his name. "Mr. Franklin, is that going to be a problem? If it is, you may save us all the time and trouble and leave class now."

Turning in her seat, Christine saw that the kid looked like he really _wanted _to, but he probably didn't want to walk past the teacher, so instead he meekly shook his head and murmured, "Nope, no problem."

"Good," the professor said, walking over to the table and stopping in front of Christine.

Gulping, she wondered if he was going to yell at her again.

Instead, he placed three stapled yellow sheets in front of her and said, "Now, we'll finish going over the syllabus very briefly, but I will expect you to read it thoroughly on your own time. I suspect this will be the last time I see many of you, so if you already know you're going to drop the class, I request that you do not write on the syllabus, and drop it off on the table on your way out."

Staring at the back of his head as he picked up a marker and began to write something on the white board, she thought that she had probably picked a bad semester to take that particular elective.

"As I have written on the board and at the top of your syllabus, my name is Dr. Erik Destler, but you may call me Erik rather than Professor Destler. It is hard to take anyone seriously when their name rhymes."

At that point the door opened again and Erik turned to face a girl with pink, black and blonde hair, a lip piercing, and her bag slung carelessly over her shoulder. She glanced up as she walked in, not even offering an apology, and strutted to the back of the room.

"Carlotta Montez?" Erik questioned.

"Yep," she said, somehow inserting attitude into even that single syllable.

His lips curved into a smile and he said, "Well, I won't bother repeating what you've missed, because I imagine this is the last time we will be seeing each other. In the unlikely event that I'm wrong and you do show up on time Wednesday, everything you need to know can be found in the syllabus, which you will be required to read very thoroughly."

Finished with that, Erik picked up two copies of the yellow packet, walking one back to Miss Montez's seat and keeping one for himself, and then he went on.

"Flip to the next page of your syllabus and we will talk about my grading scale."

Stifling a sigh, Christine turned the page.

-o-

Between class and work, Christine tried to squeeze in the interval worksheet that Erik had given the class for homework. A good chunk of her trek home was spent considering whether or not she should drop the class. Had she actually _required _the class, it would make sense to keep it, but since the class _was _only an elective she wasn't sure that she should stick with it. The professor seemed very demanding, highly unforgiving, and he had told all of them in no uncertain terms that if they weren't serious about music they would probably be miserable in the class.

It wasn't that Christine wasn't serious about music. Originally, as a young girl, her dream had been to pursue music and performing arts. She learned to play the piano at a young age, took ballet and tap lessons, and participated in community theater. Her father had taught her the basics of playing the violin, and her mother had assured her that music was a nice hobby.

However, her parents had urged her to be realistic. Pursuing music as a career was extremely competitive, extremely difficult, and if it didn't turn out the way she wanted it to, it would be a sad waste of money.

Her freshman year she filled her schedule with general education requirements and called herself undecided.

Unfortunately, she was entering into her sophomore year and she was _still _undecided. There were still courses she needed to take, so she had loaded her schedule up with the required courses again and tossed in the music theory class and a music humanities class just to tease herself. (They were also, conveniently, prerequisites to _majoring _in music.) Once the semester was over, she would try to be decided on a more realistic major so that in the spring she could begin taking classes in her own concentration.

She just needed to figure out what else she wanted to do.

Her friend Meg was lucky; even though her dream of being a dancer was also very competitive and far-fetched, her mother had encouraged her, so Meg was completely supported in pursuing her dream as she majored in dance.

Christine understood her mother's point, however.

That didn't mean she had to like it.

By the time Christine made it to work, she had already decided not to drop the class. She had a comparative religion class, fundamentals of music theory, music humanities, elementary Spanish, and course in human biology that she wasn't extremely excited about. If she dropped music theory, she would have to find a class at the same time to replace it.

Besides, Christine was a good student; no strict professor of music was going to scare her off.

* * *

-o-

* * *

**A/N:** Just a little intro to the idea, I already have plans for the next few chapters, so if you guys like it, let me know to keep going! :)


	2. Still Standing

**A/N:** Hey guys! Thanks so much for the feedback! I'm glad you guys seem to like it so far. :)

* * *

**Chapter Two**

* * *

On Tuesday Christine had her Spanish class, her biology class, and her music humanities class. Her last class didn't end until 4:10 though, which put her in the rather inconvenient position as having to haul ass to make it to work by 5:00.

The necessity of work was rather annoying.

The plan had always been a little less rocky as Christine was growing up. She was the only child of Katherine and Gustave Daaé, and while they had not been rich, they had lived comfortably and put money aside for their only daughter's college education.

In Christine's senior year of high school her father lost his job, but her college plans had been untouched; he would get another job and all would be well. Only Gustave couldn't find another job, and he had the most terrible habit of impulse that when he got stressed out, he went out and randomly made large purchases that he didn't really need. From the time he lost his job in October to several months later in April, he had purchased a big screen television, a new computer, a new truck, and a boat. Once he got the boat he realized he needed a trailer, and by the time he bought the trailer the bank was sending warnings that their house was going to be foreclosed on if they didn't immediately receive back payments.

Katherine had an office job working 30 hours a week, but it was low-paying and certainly couldn't sustain them even if Gustave _hadn't _made so many foolish purchases.

All the stress—and his poor eating habits—came to a head shortly after Christine's high school graduation when Gustave was rushed to the emergency room with cardiac arrest. They rushed him in for surgery, but he had two heart attacks on the operating table and he died the same night. He did have a life insurance policy, but by the time Katherine used it to pay funeral costs and to pay all the debts they had accumulated so quickly, there was barely enough left to pay the bank enough money to keep the house from being foreclosed on.

The money that had been set aside for Christine's college fun had been severely dented—there was still around $8,000 left, but that wasn't going to cover it—and Katherine had to leave the job she had been at for ten years to seek full-time employment that paid better at a different company that she immediately hated.

Obviously there was no money left for Christine's education, and the $8,000 that had been saved was certainly not going to buy her a bachelor's degree. With her grades, she was able to get _some _financial assistance, but even taking out loans for tuition there was still the cost of living to consider. With everything that had gone on, Christine lived at home with her mother instead of at the dorms, but that left her with the additional time and cost of commuting into the city for classes as well as the occasional need to pitch in for rent when her mother couldn't cut it—which was most months.

That didn't make Tuesdays and Thursdays any more bearable.

She had to make her way into the city in the morning to make it to class, she spent all afternoon _in _her classes, and then she had to hustle to get to the restaurant where she hostessed from 5 to 11 pm. Making her way home alone at 11 pm wasn't something that Christine was comfortable with at any rate, but especially considering she had class again bright and early the next morning. She was off Thursday night, so she would be able to relax, do some homework, maybe some laundry, and then Friday she had to go back to the city just to take the intimidating music theory class and then to work 2:30 to 9:30, but after that she had already promised to hang out with Meg.

Her schedule was already so full, and it was only the first week.

Since the week was so busy, it floated right by, and Friday was there.

Her musical theory class, despite its strict professor, was already turning out to be one of her favorites. Yes, he was pretty strict and he loved rules a little too much, but he seemed to know _so much_ that she couldn't help being fascinated. His class—not even to full capacity to begin with containing only 16 students—was cut precisely in half by Friday.

When he called attendance—a full minute late, which Christine found surprising—his lips had curved up in a smile when he saw that he had only 8 students in attendance.

"Well, congratulations for making it this far," he had told them.

Much to his surprise, Christine and Carlotta—the late ones—were also 2 of the 8 still standing.

Friday was the day of their first quiz. He lectured for the first 15 minutes—because he was evil that way—and then he asked everyone to put their notes away and keep out only a pencil. He assured them that since he wouldn't be grading on a curve, if they had any questions while they took their interval quiz they were more than welcome to raise their hand and he would come help since it was the first one.

Christine hated herself a little when she made it to the second bar of the quiz and got tripped up. She glanced up to where he sat behind the table, marking notes down on papers in front of him. Even though he had told them they could ask questions, she was afraid he would think she was stupid for already drawing a blank.

She decided just to take the chance of looking stupid though, because it wasn't like she could make it up with extra credit if she kept her mouth shut and bombed the test.

Raising her hand a bit shyly, his gaze immediately snapped up to her when he caught sight of the motion.

Pushing his chair back, he stood and walked over to Christine, raising his left eyebrow questioningly. "Did you have a question, Miss Daaé?" he asked quietly.

Biting her lip, she nodded apologetically and pointed to the paper. "I hate to ask you, but I don't want to get a bad grade."

Smiling slightly, he assured her, "My bark is worse than my bite." Then, walking around the table to stand beside her, he absently placed his hand on her shoulder to lean down and look at her paper.

Christine was caught quite unaware by the jolt of electricity that shot through her at the innocent brush of his hand on her shoulder and judging by the way he immediately stiffened and dropped his hand to the back of her chair, he had felt it, too.

Clearing his throat, he said, "Which one's giving you the problem?"

Staring at him blankly, she was momentarily dumbfounded by his question. Her eyes got distracted in those impossibly golden eyes of his, so unnaturally close to her. Up at the podium he was impressive and vaguely intimidating—an aura of power and knowledge emanating around his person. Leaning in close enough that Christine could smell his cologne… well, it was a whole different story.

Shaking herself slightly, she forced herself to turn and look back down at the paper, and for a minute she felt like she was going to break out into a sweat trying to find the bar she had been looking at.

Finally she jabbed her finger in the direction of the troublesome interval and managed, "Is that M6?"

Smiling slightly, Erik shook his head and said, "No." Then, leaning in even closer, he removed the pencil from her hand and erased it for her.

Her heart skipped, and she vaguely realized that he was quietly explaining the correct answer and _why _it was the correct answer, but all she could focus on was how close his face was to hers. It was _completely _inappropriate, but her vision felt vaguely fuzzy, she was paying more attention to how amazing he smelled and how the hand he was resting on the back of her chair kept lightly brushing against her back…

"Do you see?" he asked, his golden eyes meeting her coffee brown ones.

"Uh huh," she said, nodding dumbly, not even looking at the paper.

He bit back a smile and said, "You might want to… _look_."

Flushing several different shades of red, she jerked her gaze to the paper and said, "Right. Sorry. I'm looking… where I'm supposed to now."

His hand brushed her back again and she swallowed.

Once more he gave her the right answer, and that time she actually heard him, so she wrote it down on the paper beneath the bar.

"I don't know why I didn't know that, "she told him, shaking her head. "I _did _know that."

"It's okay," he said easily. "Sometimes your brain just freezes up—especially when your teacher's being rough on you."

It sounded dirty. She knew he probably hadn't meant it to, but considering the train of her thoughts, the words "being rough on you" coming from his lips made her think wholly inappropriate things.

Unsure of whether or not he really expected her to agree with him on that, she raised her eyebrows and glanced up at him.

He smiled.

Her heart somersaulted.

Inwardly groaning, she told herself she would _not _develop a crush on her music teacher.

His left hand was on her shoulder again, offering her a little reassuring pat. "You'll do fine."

She looked at his hand, but that time she realized she was looking—quite pointlessly!—to see if he was wearing a wedding band. He was not, and that pleased her.

"And hey, if you do need a little more help with any of this stuff, my office hours are in the syllabus, I'm generally always available to help out my students. I expect near perfection, and I don't mind giving extra instruction where it's needed."

"I know scales, I don't know why… I guess it's just been so long since I've practiced any of this…"

Nodding, he said, "Well, like I said. I'm your teacher, that's what I'm here for."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," she returned with a slight smile.

He walked back to his table then, taking a seat, and Christine found herself watching him—until he sat down and looked at her, totally catching her stare—and feeling less intimidated than she had before.

Well, by him.

Her stupid whim of being attracted to her professor was probably something to be a little intimidated by, especially since her brain felt scrambled and she kept wanting to steal glances at him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Christine shook her head slightly, forcing her brain to forget the electricity jolt and forget that Erik could apparently be pleasant instead of scary, and she returned her attention to painstakingly identifying scales and completing her quiz.

When she finished the test, she realized she was the first person to finish, and she wondered if perhaps she had missed something. Everyone else was still frowning in concentration—aside from Carlotta, who pushed back her chair as loudly as she could and practically raced to the front of the room so she could turn her test in before Christine had gathered her things.

Carlotta looked over her shoulder as Christine came up behind her and flashed her a haughty little smirk, as if it actually mattered who turned their test in first.

Christine found herself hoping that Carlotta had missed the "properties of sound" section, which had been fill-in-the-blank and on the back of the sheet.

With that, Carlotta strutted out of the room for no apparent reason and Christine fought down a rather immediate wave of dislike.

Christine noticed that Erik merely nodded silently when Carlotta gave him her test, but when Christine handed it in he leaned forward and quietly asked, "You saw that there's a back, right?"

Smiling, she whispered back, "Yeah."

"Good," he replied, nodding and flipping Carlotta's test over innocently enough to reveal an empty fill-in-the-blank section.

Christine's smile widened a little and she offered, "See you Monday."

He nodded, placing her test over Carlotta's and watched her walk to the door.

Once she got outside and down the hall a bit, she withdrew her cell phone from her purse and dialed Meg's number.

"Hey, what's up?"

"You're going to be so proud of me," Christine told her.

"I am?" Meg asked excitedly. "Did you decide to ditch cynical practicality and follow your dreams?"

"Well, no."

"Did you decide that you and I should get an apartment in the city so I don't have to live with my retching roommate and you don't have to commute like five hours each way every day?"

"No."

"Are you going on a date?"

"No, but stop guessing."

"Sorry, I'm all ears."

Sighing, Christine said, "I think I have a crush on one of my professors."

-o-

Christine met Meg outside of her apartment after work that night wearing a trench coat.

Meg burst into laughter when she saw her friend, but Christine explained that since she was dressed rather scantily, she thought wearing a trench coat was a good way of avoiding getting raped on the way there.

Meg ceded the point, but apparently felt no hesitation in leaving the apartment building in her three inch mini-skirt, see through shirt, and four inch heels.

"I swear, you would think I would get sick of dancing at some point, but no."

Shaking her head, Christine said, "I would just think you wouldn't want to dance in those shoes. They look painful."

"Oh, they're so gorgeous though," she said, looking down to admire her own shoes as they walked. "My mom's mister bought them for me for my birthday. She told me when we went to lunch the other day that she's thinking about dumping him, but I advised her that any man who buys me shoes like this is a keeper."

Rolling her eyes, Christine said, "Maybe you should date him then."

"Nah, he's old enough to be my dad." Brightening, she said, "Speaking of, how old is The Naughty Professor?"

Groaning, Christine said, "I wish you would stop calling him that. It's a stupid nickname, it sounds like a porno, and he is _not _a naughty professor. He's a very good professor, just strict."

"Is he young? You said he isn't married. Probably divorced," she decided with a nod.

"I don't know, it's kind of hard to tell how old he is with half of his face hidden. Since he does have a PhD I imagine he isn't _young_, but probably somewhere past 30 and before 40."

"Does he have gray hair?"

"No," Christine replied, shaking her head. "His hair's really dark, almost black."

"And you don't find the mask thing kind of weird? I mean, he's a college professor, not Zorro. I would think it would be weird."

"No, the mask is made out of this like… gauze cloth type of material and honestly I've only been in his class three times and I already feel like it's just a part of his face. It's not a theatrical mask or anything, it's more or less the same color as his skin and it kind of blends in, so he doesn't look weird."

"Maybe he's recovering from plastic surgery or something and it's temporary," Meg suggested.

Making a face, Christine said, "I would like to think he didn't get plastic surgery on _half _of his face."

"That's true," Meg agreed with a nod.

"Anyway, I like the mask. It's different. I think it adds to that aura of mysterious power that he seems to have."

Chuckling, Meg said, "I so thoroughly approve of you having the hots for your professor."

"I knew you would," Christine replied with a satisfied nod. "Do you have any love interests yet?"

Making a face, Meg said, "No. There's one _really _hot guy in one of my dance classes, I seriously almost convulsed from the hotness the moment I saw him, but the jerk is _gay_. So… he isn't going to be asking me out anytime soon."

"Yeah, you'll have that sometimes."

"It just isn't fair," Meg replied, shaking her head. "It's okay though, I'm going to be busy enough this semester. Did I tell you I got that children's theater internship? I'm going to be spending a good chunk of this semester helping little kids rehearse _Annie_ and I get to dance on stage for one of the adult scenes. I'm going to be shown around a bit behind the scenes, too."

"You didn't tell me that. That's awesome, Meg! I'm so happy for you!"

Flashing a smile, Meg said, "I was pleased. It's going to be playing from the last week in November through December; I'll have to get you a ticket to at least one of the shows so you can watch. I mean, it's not the _best _internship ever, but I figured it's a start, you know?"

"No, definitely. It's great that you're doing some sort of interning—anything helps."

Bach began to play from somewhere in the vicinity of Christine's purse and she frowned, unzipping it and fishing around for her phone.

"Who's calling _you_?" Meg asked, puzzled. "I'm with you and your mom knows you're out."

Rolling her eyes, Christine said, "I do have a _slightly _larger social circle than that." Once she had her phone she looked at the name flashing across the screen and saw, "Scarecrow."

Unable to help herself, Christine started laughing as she opened her phone, "You put your name in my phone as _Scarecrow_?"

"I figured I had a better chance of you remembering me that way," Raoul joked.

"Am I Dorothy in yours?"

"Naturally," he replied easily. "So, what are you up to this fine Friday night?"

"Um… I'm walking right now. My friend Meg and I are heading to this club where her ex-boyfriend works."

"Oh yeah? Me and a few of my friends are heading out soon, too. We're going to Majesté; you guys should come meet us there after you leave your club."

"Oh, that's… we aren't really club-hoppers. We'll probably just go see Jason, sip a martini, and head back home to—"

Meg elbowed Christine swiftly in the ribs, scowling and shaking her head, hissing, "Who is that? Where are we being invited?"

Covering the phone, Christine whispered back, "This jock guy I did community theater with when I was a kid. He wants us to go to some place called Majesté with him and his friends."

Eyes widening, Meg jabbed her friend in the ribs again, that time unnecessarily. "Tell him _yes_ and stop being such a prude!"

Raoul kind of laughed on the other end of the phone and Christine flushed, wondering if perhaps he had heard the interaction. Probably just covering the phone wasn't the _most _discreet thing to do.

"Come on, it'll be fun. I'll buy you both a drink. If the company is that bad, you can leave after that."

"Neither of us is old enough to drink," Christine stated. "Jason gives us a martini because he used to date Meg, but other clubs aren't going to serve us."

"Christine, my brother _owns _Majesté; I assure you, I will be able to able to procure a couple of martinis."

"Oh," she said dumbly. "Well, how much is the cover?"

"No cover," he said. "Just give them my name at the door, tell them you're my guests, and you won't have to pay anything to get in."

No cover charge on a Friday night _was _vaguely enticing, and at Meg's vigorous nods Christine finally said, "Well, okay. What time should we be there?"

"I'll be there by 11, so any time after that."

"All right, I guess we'll see you there then."

Raoul gave her directions in case she didn't know where the club was and then they hung up and she slipped her phone back in her purse.

Meg gave her another elbow to the ribs.

Glaring at her best friend, Christine said, "Would you quit that?"

"You've been holding out on me," Meg accused. "You tell me about The Naughty Professor but you _don't _tell me about the jock?"

"I didn't even think he'd really call," she replied dismissively. "I don't know if this is a good idea either. I'm dressed to go to the club with _you_; dressing like a whore when I'm at a club with a _guy _is a lot different."

"You're not dressed like a whore. Everyone dresses up to go to clubs."

"Sure, but he could be a douchebag for all I know," Christine reasoned. "Last time I saw him I hadn't even hit puberty yet."

"Well, come on, spill. How did the phone number thing happen?"

"We just ran into each other in the hall on Monday—he's actually why I was late to class and initially got off on the wrong foot with my professor. He recognized me, we talked for a minute, and then he suggested that we trade numbers. He said he'd call me later and this is the first time I heard from him; I assumed he wasn't going to call."

"When guys say they'll call you later it never really _means _later, it means whenever."

"Whatever," Christine replied, shaking her head.

"Is he cute?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

Meg's eyebrows shot up. "You _guess_?"

"He is cute, I just… I don't know, I don't really find myself attracted to guys I don't know. He's amusing, but I don't know if we really have anything in common."

"Well, you don't have to marry him or anything, but you're _young, _Christine; let the cute guy buy you drinks and flirt with you."

Shaking her head with a little smile, Christine looped her arms through her friend's and said, "Come on, we better go tell Jason you aren't going to stick around and flirt with him tonight."

-o-

:)


	3. Majesté

**A/N:** Hallo! Currently listening to the POTO movie soundtrack. :) Also, I almost feel bad admitting this since he's Movie!Raoul, but I could listen to Patrick Wilson sing quite a bit without complaint.

Anyway, thanks so much for the feedback! Another quick update for you. :) Enjoy!

* * *

By the time they reached Majesté, the girls already felt lighter and a little more carefree from the single martini that Jason had given them before they left. Meg had a dancer's body, Christine had a similarly petite build, and since neither girl imbibed alcohol regularly they were definitely what you would call lightweights.

Honestly, Christine had been a little nervous about meeting Raoul at the club prior to the martini, but by the time she finished it and headed toward Majesté she was decidedly more relaxed about the idea.

"I really like martinis," Christine was saying as they approached the front of the line in front of the club.

"I really like you," Meg said, lovingly resting her head on her best friend's shoulder.

Giggling a bit, Christine said, "I really like you, too."

The man at the door smirked a little at the sight of Meg resting on Christine, but when he asked for ID and cover charge so he could stamp them, Christine moved her friend's head off her shoulder and said, "We're guests of Raoul Chagny; he said just to tell you and…"

The man was already nodding. "What are your names?"

"Christine Daaé and Meg Giry," Christine provided.

He nodded, stamping their hands and telling them, "Go on in."

"Sweet," Meg said to Christine as they walked in. "I feel like a VIP."

"Because we walked in?" Christine asked, amused.

"We were on _the list_, Christine," Meg said with mock gravity. "We are obviously highly important people."

Laughing, Christine absently took Meg's hand and dragged her over to the bar. "He said he would be by the bar."

"What's he look like? I'll look for him," Meg volunteered.

"You can't look for someone you've never seen. He's blonde… his hair's a little long for a guy, falls to his shoulders… built like a jock, nice smile…"

"So I just find a blonde hot guy and we can go hang out with him?"

Spotting him, Christine ignored Meg and pulled her over to where a group of about five guys sat in a corner booth, a brunette with a pixie cut and a really, _really _tight black dress sat back, smiling at Raoul.

"Charming," Christine remarked ironically.

Raoul's back was still to Christine as he was apparently conversing with the brunette and had his body turned toward her.

Hesitating, Christine said, "This was a bad idea. Let's just leave, we can go back to—"

"No," Meg said, pushing her friend forward. "He is not your boyfriend, you will not get offended by him talking to another girl."

"I'm not," Christine denied. "But she's really, really pretty, and he looks into her, and I'm going to feel so stupid—"

"Raoul Chagny, long time no see," Meg said loudly, approaching the table.

Christine flushed a little as Meg reversed their roles and she found herself being dragged to the booth.

Raoul turned, looking startled and glanced at Meg—giving her a casual once-over from her stylish long blonde hair, down her skimpy outfit to her heels, then back to her face. Obviously he didn't recognize her—since they had never met—but he didn't want to risk offending her, so he said, "Yeah, it has been a long time. How are you?"

"Great," Meg said with a bright grin. "Mind if we sit?"

Practically leaping out of his seat—and informing the pixie that she needed to scoot down—he said, "Of course not, please…"

Meg smiled and scooted in next to the pixie—flashing her an overly friendly smile—and Raoul lightly placed a hand on Christine's back, favoring her with a little smile.

"I'm so glad you made it," he told her, glancing at her trench coat. "May I take that for you?"

Christine slipped the coat off, not even feeling self-conscious since she was still under the influence of the first martini. His gaze brightened when he took in the sight of her in a slinky purple top with spaghetti straps and a black micro-mini.

"What can I get you ladies to drink?" he asked.

"Vodka martini," Meg replied, not a bit shy.

"Make that two, please," Christine agreed.

Raoul nodded and made his way up to the bar, returning after only a moment with two martinis and sliding in next to Christine.

"Thanks," Meg replied, wasting no time bringing her martini to her lips.

He nodded at her and then turned his attention to Christine, smiling at her as intimately as if they were the only two in the booth. "So, how was your first week?"

"It was good," replied, nodding and taking a little sip of her martini. "I like my classes, my instructors are actually all pretty cool. How about you?"

"Good, good," he affirmed, nodding. "Is this your sophomore year, or…?"

"Yeah. Yours too, right?"

"Yep. What are you majoring in?"

"I'm not actually sure yet. I wanted to go for music, but I'll probably end up picking something more practical."

"Makes sense."

"What about you? What's your major?"

"Philosophy," he returned with an easy smile.

Nearly choking on her drink, she wanted to ask him what more he anticipated doing with a philosophy degree than she could do with a music degree.

Seeming to read her mind, he expanded, "That's for my undergraduate degree, of course. After I graduate I'm going to go on to law school."

"Oh."

Well, okay, he _was _going somewhere with his degree.

He offered a gentle smile and asked, "Have you taken any philosophy classes?"

"I took intro last semester," she told him.

"Did you like it?"

"Sort of. My professor was kind of boring, and he was almost _too _open-minded; anyone could talk him out of any position if they simply talked long enough."

From there they launched into a conversation about philosophy, and as Christine imbibed more of her drink and became more relaxed, she found herself quite content to sit there smile absently as he relayed lectures to her. Since she enjoyed learning, she actually didn't mind at all that most of their conversation was just Raoul telling her what he was learning in his philosophy classes. Even if they weren't his thoughts, it was kind of nice to know that he did have an identity outside of being a pretty jock.

Her relaxed look must have finally worn on him, because as she drained the last of her martini and sat it down on the table, he said, "I'm sorry, am I boring you?"

"No, not at all," she assured him, shaking her head. "I was just thinking that you're not such a scarecrow after all."

Chuckling and leaning in a little closer to her, he reached out and brushed his fingers along her cheek. "Don't tell anyone."

The way he was gazing at her, Christine had the sudden thought that he looked like he was going to kiss her, but before she could rally her mind to turn to Meg and drag her into the conversation, he was already leaning in.

Although two martinis earlier she would have probably chuckled a little and moved away, dodging the attempt, Christine merely closed her eyes and allowed him to lean in and brush his lips against hers. His hands moved around her waist and he pulled her a little bit closer, applying a little more pressure.

Even after two martinis, Christine pulled back before he could really deepen the kiss. She offered a little smile, but pulled back enough that he understood the kiss was over.

"I'm glad you came tonight," he told her quietly, his fingers lightly moving up and down her arm. "I've enjoyed seeing you again."

"Yeah, me too," she replied.

"Maybe we could go out another time with_out_ all of these people."

Honestly, she kept forgetting about all of the other people, but she found herself nodding. "We could do that."

As soon as the words were out, she realized they had come out reluctantly—although she had agreed, it hadn't sounded even to her like she wanted to.

"Want me to get you another martini?" he offered.

"No thanks," she said, firmly shaking her head. "That was my second of the night, I am not even exaggerating when I tell you that one more will get me _completely_ drunk."

Meg tapped on Christine's shoulder, saying, "Can you guys let me out? I have to pee."

Raoul obediently slid out of the booth and Christine slid out after him. When she stood, she almost lost her balance, and she realized she was already a little less capable than she had planned to be.

"Come with me," Meg said, taking Christine's hand and calling over her shoulder that they would be back.

"Walk slow, Meg," Christine complained, trying to regain her equilibrium. "We shouldn't have had martinis before we came; I wanted to leave when I could walk straight."

"Those martinis he gave us were made really strong," Meg agreed. "We'll be fine. We'll sit here for another hour or so and maybe get a couple glasses of water. By the time we leave, we'll be perfectly fine. I see you and Mr. Scarecrow are getting awfully cozy though, huh?"

"I shouldn't have let him kiss me," Christine said, shaking her head. "That was a bad idea. I'm not in the appropriate state of mind to make a decision like that anyway, and this isn't even a date, so I definitely shouldn't have let him kiss me. He'll get the wrong idea."

"What century do you live in?" Meg asked, shaking her head. "You're hardly going to be marked with a scarlet letter for kissing a boy after a couple of martinis. I swear, Christine, sometimes I wonder about you."

"I'm old-fashioned," Christine stated. "Making out with a guy I'm not even dating just isn't really how I do things."

"You weren't making out. I've given my _grandma _hotter kisses than that."

That comment—along with the alcohol, which made everything more amusing—caused Christine to start laughing so hard that her side hurt.

When they returned to the table Raoul got up so that Meg could scoot back in. The pixie had disappeared while they were in the bathroom, but Meg had no complaints about scooting in next to the five other guys occupying the booth.

Unfortunately, the time away without the girls had given them the opening to start talking about sports, and after listening politely for about five minutes, Christine's eyes glazed over.

Raoul kept touching her—nothing racy, just light caresses, little whispers of affection—as he talked, even when he was talking to his friends, and Christine was so bored by the conversation and so relaxed by his light caresses that she felt herself beginning to fall asleep.

When their laughter caused her to jerk, and she realized she actually _had _nodded off, she decided it was time to leave. They still had to head all the way back to her house, so they still had a good hour ahead of them once they left.

Sitting up a little straighter, Christine looked over at Raoul and said, "I think Meg and I are going to have to get out of here. I'm really tired and we should probably get home."

"Oh, stay just a little longer?"

"No," she said, shaking her head but offering a regretful smile. "Sorry, but we really should go."

"Well, I can escort you home," he suggested. "It's dark and you two ladies probably shouldn't be walking all that way. I'll go call a cab."

"No," she said with a little more force. Softening her tone with an absent pat to his hand, she said, "I appreciate it, but it's not necessary."

Looking a little stung by her harsh tone, he slid out of the seat and allowed Christine and Meg out. "Well, be careful. The streets aren't safe at night."

"All right, we will. You have fun."

"I'll call you tomorrow. Maybe we could go to dinner or something."

Offering a smile, Christine nodded and waved a general goodbye to the other people at the table. Raoul briefly took her hand, smiling at her, and then he released her hand and Christine quickly hauled Meg toward the door.

"What's your rush?" Meg asked as they prepared to leave.

"I don't know," Christine said honestly.

"That guy is so into you," Meg remarked. "He looked like he would have dropped to all fours and followed you home like a faithful puppy if you would have permitted it."

Rolling her eyes with a small smile, Christine said, "Meg."

"What? It's true."

Shaking her head, Christine looped her arm through her friend's and said, "Let's go home."

"It would be so much easier if we could just click our heels three times and say there's no place like home, wouldn't it?"

"Definitely."

"You know what would be a lot easier? If we _lived _in the city _together_. I mean, a truly fantastic idea since we both go to school in the city and _work_ in the city and _hang out _in the city…"

"Meg, you know I would love to move in with you, but I can't afford it. We've been over this 85 times this week."

"Then maybe you should start going out with Raoul and make him be your sugar daddy. I bet he could pitch in and help you with rent," Meg said playfully.

"No, I'm sure his _parents _could afford it, but I doubt he could afford much of anything without them. Besides, I would never date a man just because he has money. I have a more important list of standards."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, your dreamy soulful musician. Are you going to give Raoul a chance at all?" Meg asked, peering at her friend.

Shrugging, Christine said, "Who knows? I imagine I'll go out with him if he asks, but I wouldn't start picking out china patterns yet if I were you."

"Well, duh, I can't let you marry him. Then we'll _never _move in together."

Christine grinned over at her friend and swerved, making her way down into the subway to begin the long voyage home.

-o-

Raoul did call the next day and ask Christine to dinner. Initially she made excuses about having homework, but then she decided just to go with him and she told him she would meet him at the restaurant of his choosing. Wanting to play the white knight, he told her he would pick her up, but she said absolutely not, she lived out of the way and she would meet him there.

It wasn't necessarily that she was embarrassed of the dumpy place she called home; commuting was common enough, and there were plenty of not-so-glamorous looking homes in the area. Still, the thought of Raoul coming so far out of the way and seeing where she lived felt rather disenchanting, so she opted just to meet him halfway. Well, more than halfway, but that wasn't the point.

Since it was just the two of them at dinner, it was pretty nice. They went to one of those fancy Italian restaurants with purposefully accented servers in their crisp white and black uniforms, Italian music playing in the background, and menus that Christine couldn't read without some sort of decoder ring. While taking her order, the waiter looked down his nose at her, and Raoul ordered a bottle of wine despite her protests.

By the end of the dinner she appreciated his attempts—regardless of how over-the-top they felt to her—but she was so ready to go home and just bury herself in her textbooks that it wasn't even funny.

When she finally made it home, she was cursing the commute as Meg had been the night before, knowing that it wasn't going to take very long for it to get very, very old.

-o-

On Monday Christine was glad to be back at school. When it was time for her music theory class, she quickly made her way through the halls to her classroom, telling herself the whole way there that her haste was because she wanted to sit down and get everything organized before class—certainly not because she was eager to see her teacher after the weekend away.

As soon as she entered the classroom—the first person to arrive—and saw him, she felt a little smile grace her lips. He was wearing a pair of black slacks and a wrinkle-free blue dress shirt that hugged the muscles on his back as he bent down to retrieve his notebooks. Sensing her entrance, he turned to see who was there and offered a slight nod when he saw her.

"Hello," she greeted, dropping her books on the very front table and sitting down on the end seat—almost unconsciously sitting closest to him.

"Hello, Christine," he replied. "How was your weekend?"

Just the sound of his voice made her want to sigh a little bit, not in a girlish infatuated way, but in the sense that his voice was so melodic, so entrancing that it just felt natural to relax and absorb the beautiful sound.

"It was… okay, I suppose," she answered, smiling softly. "How was yours?"

"Productive," he replied with a nod. "You're here early today," he remarked.

"Yeah. My last class let out a few minutes early today and I didn't want to be late again, so I just came straight here."

"Didn't want the professor to yell, huh?" he returned, smiling a little.

"I prefer to stay on his good side," she answered with mock gravity.

"Well, in that case, I'm going to need a volunteer to demonstrate the scales once class starts. Would you like to sing the scales?"

"Sure, I could do that," she said with a little nod. Then, smiling a little, she said, "Are you too shy to sing the scales for us?"

Smiling ironically, he returned, "I wouldn't want to break your fragile eardrums."

"Yeah right," she replied without thought. "As lovely as your speaking voice is, I have a hard time believing your singing voice could be anything less than beautiful."

Looking a little surprised, he said, "I didn't realize I had a 'lovely' speaking voice."

Flushing a little Christine averted her gaze for a moment. "Well… I mean… _I _think so, anyway."

Erik smiled, but before he could respond Carlotta came sauntering through the door, and then a response no longer seemed appropriate. Returning his attention to the papers in front of him, Erik resumed his no-nonsense teacher role and Christine shuffled through her notebook as if she actually had a reason to do so.

Other students began filtering in, and when it was time for class to start Erik took attendance—a formality, since his class was so small—and then he began talking about the scales. When it came time for the classroom volunteer to come up and sing the scales, Christine felt suddenly shy and a little nervous.

"Christine is going to sing the scales for us—obviously you should already be familiar with this, but a little demonstration is always nice. Christine, would you like to come up here?"

"Oh, up… there? Sure," she said, pushing her seat back and standing, walking the couple of feet to stand by Erik's desk. He hadn't told her where to face, but she found herself moving to face him instead of the class, turning to the side but definitely looking at him.

At his nod, she began to sing the scales, just the simple little exercise. Her voice was a little rusty from lack of use and lack of proper training, but overall the soft clarity managed to spring forth even just using that simple little string of sounds, and when she finished and met his eyes, Erik looked a little bit transfixed.

"Should I sit down now?" she asked with a nervous chuckle.

"Again," he said simply.

"Uh… the scales?"

Erik nodded.

With an obedient nod, she stood up straighter and went through the scales again, looking at the white wall in front of her instead of at him, and only allowing her gaze to return to him again when she had finished.

For another moment, he watched her, then seeming to remember he was in a classroom, he nodded and thanked her, telling her she could take her seat.

Clearing his throat, Erik said, "All right, we're going to talk for a minute about chromatic scales. Who can tell me what that means?"

-o-

When class was over everyone gathered up their things and began to leave. Christine was the last person to stand up—even though she was at the very front of the class—so Erik was able to wait for the other students to clear out before saying, "Miss Daaé, do you have a moment?"

"Certainly," she replied, walking around the table and holding her books to her chest. "Was something wrong?"

"No," he replied, his gaze rather intent upon her face. "You have a very promising voice; I've had some talented students, but before today I never heard anything as pure and raw as the level your voice is on. Were you trained to sing as a child?"

Shaking her head a little shyly, she said, "Not really. I mean, I did some singing when I was younger, just… The Wizard of Oz and Bye Bye Birdie—just local theater stuff. We were shown a breathing exercise and we practiced our songs, but we were just kids, so…"

"I want you to at least audition for the university's chorus ensemble," he stated.

"Oh, I couldn't."

"You could. As a member of chorus, you wouldn't have to sing solo or anything like that; it would be a simple first step, but it would get you putting your voice to use at least a little bit."

"You have to… to audition for a spot, and besides they have to practice and sing at concerts and things like that. I couldn't possibly fit it into my schedule."

"Are you taking that many classes? Chorus meets Tuesdays and Thursdays from 6 to 8 pm, but if you can't do both nights you would be able to just come on Thursdays."

"It's not classes, it's… well, it's my job. I generally work five nights a week, so I definitely wouldn't be able to get both of those evenings off every week."

"Should you be working that much as a student?" he asked.

"I don't really have a choice," she stated. Then, offering a smile, she added, "I'm flattered that you would encourage me to join though, thank you."

Instead of smiling and nodding and dismissing her, Erik scowled rather severely. "A talent like yours should not be wasted, Christine. Do you not enjoy singing?"

"On the contrary; I love to sing. But… life isn't always about doing what you love, you know?" she remarked with a little smile. "Sometimes you have to compromise. In order to go to this school, I have to work. In order to work, I have to skip chorus. I'm okay with that."

"I'm not," he countered immediately. "Give it a chance, just one chance," he requested. "I'm sure that you could get only Thursday evenings off."

"Well… I probably could, but it wouldn't make my boss very happy."

"If your boss is so unbending then perhaps you should find a better job."

Chuckling, she said, "That's why I'm _here_."

"Please audition for chorus."

His voice was low, coaxing, and just the hypnotic sound of it gave Christine pause.

"I… I don't even know if I can make it to the audition. I don't even know _when _audition is."

"It doesn't matter; whenever you're free, I'll make it work."

"Why?" she asked before she could think better of it.

For a few seconds he didn't respond, then with a vaguely sardonic smile he said, "Because I can't bear the thought of never hearing you sing again. You owe it to _yourself _to give it a shot if you have any passion for music at all."

That gave her pause again, and for a moment, she wondered if somehow she could make it work, make a little bit of time for her dreams. "I guess I could _ask _my boss about getting just Thursdays off…"

"Excellent. You could audition as soon as tonight if you're free."

Shaking her head, she said, "I have to work tonight and tomorrow night. Do you think Wednesday would be possible? I don't work Wednesday."

With a decisive nod, Erik said, "Wednesday will be fine. Do you work Thursday night?"

"Yes," she replied apologetically. "I could ask for next Thursday off though. I can 't guarantee he'll give it to me with so little notice… but I can _definitely _get the Thursday after that off."

"Wow, you really are booked, aren't you?" he questioned.

Lightly shrugging, she said, "This isn't a cheap school."

"Didn't you get any financial aid? Or have parents that are helping you out?"

"I got some financial aid, but not enough. My father passed away and my mother can't even keep herself afloat, let alone help me."

Scowling, he said, "Well, that's no way to go through your college career…"

"It's not so bad," she insisted, averting her gaze toward the door in an attempt to steer the conversation away from the topic of her misfortunes. As soon as her gaze absently fell on the door, however, her jaw dropped a little as she saw Raoul standing in the window waiting for her.

"Um… I have to… go," she said with very little grace, scowling at the window and then whipping her gaze back to Erik. "Thank you though. I'll see you Wednesday."

Before he could finish leaning forward to see what had distracted her, Christine was zooming out the door, grabbing Raoul and pulling him away from the door.

"Hey," he said, actually _bouncing _a little in his enthusiasm to see her as he leveled a cheerful gaze on her face.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, forcing a smile.

"Ah, well, I remembered that you had a class here and my class let out early so I thought I'd come see if you wanted to get some lunch with me. I was excited when your class let out early, but then your classmates came out and _you _didn't. That's a really small class, by the way. Did a lot of people skip today?"

Shaking her head, she said, "No, the teacher scared most of them off the first couple of classes."

"Why did you have to stay behind?" he asked, frowning.

"Oh, it was nothing really. The professor wanted to suggest that I audition for chorus."

Brightening, Raoul said, "Yeah, you should! You were always a really good singer. There was a reason you were always cast as the lead female singer in community theater."

Smiling slightly, she said, "Only twice, Raoul. I was hardly a headliner."

"Nonsense, you're the star of every show as far as I'm concerned."

Laughing lightly, Christine shook her head. "You're too kind."

Offering her his arm, he said, "Come on, let's grab some lunch."

Taking his arm and giving him a little smile, she allowed him to escort her to lunch, trying not to think of her masked music teacher and whether or not he had seen the reason for her quick exit, fruitlessly hoping that he didn't.

* * *

-o-

* * *

**A/N:** That's all for now, but I'm about to start the next chapter right now. My muse is being uncharacteristically kind with this story thus far… but then, she's always had a soft spot for teacher-student stories. :)


	4. Somewhere Over the Rainbow

**A/N:** Hey guys! Thanks go out to: **Daae-Phantom-Love****, Tina95, PHLover213, DaPhatGnome**, and **ladyphan17**. Thank you guys so much for your feedback!

I don't generally switch POVs like this, but when I went to write this chapter, Erik wanted a turn to be the main character. I really can't deny Erik. :)

**ladyphan17****:** I agree! Actually, one thing that serves as a minor pet peeve of mine is when people vilify Raoul to such an extent that he's cartoonish. I don't like Raoul because he inevitably gets what Erik wanted, but I'm also not of the opinion that he was a really bad guy. I just think he's… well, a bit of a fop. :) Anyway, thank you!

* * *

-o-

Erik knew as soon as he heard Christine sing that nothing good could possibly come of it.

When he found himself lingering in the alcove that housed the door to his classroom, peering around the corner to see what had brought Christine so quickly out of his class, he was doubly sure of it.

The senseless anger that squeezed his heart when he saw the boy offer Christine his arm and then he watched her take it, smiling up at that wretched little jock and leaning against his shoulder… well, it erased all remaining arguments that he might have tried to make to himself that his interests with the girl were purely musical.

He _was _interested in her voice.

He _wasn't _interested in the fact that she obviously had a boyfriend.

As Christine neared the end of the hallway and they took the turn, the boy clearly yammering on about something, Erik saw the toss of Christine's chocolate curls as she turned her head to gaze back toward his classroom.

Hastily ducking back inside, he sighed to himself, firmly warning his own restless mind that Christine was a college student, _his _college student, and her romantic life—_all _of her personal life, really—should not concern him at all.

Unfortunately, knowing his own obsessive nature, he had a bad feeling that he wasn't going to completely listen to himself.

Good thing he was hideous; his deformity would be able to step in and save him where his mind faltered.

Carelessly sweeping all of his belongings into his bag, Erik hoisted the bag onto his shoulder and headed for the music department.

More than ever before, he really felt the need to compose.

-o-

Tuesday was wretched.

Erik attempted to occupy himself with work, but every once in awhile Christine would rear up in his mind again. He had been attracted to her, naturally; she was a very attractive young woman, and he had noticed several of his male students eyeing her up on the first day. A vague attraction to a pretty girl—even a student—did not warn Erik, it only served as a reminder that he still had a pulse. Her image hadn't followed him that first week; she had been just another pretty face, one of the many that he saw on a daily basis, and there had been nothing about her that truly stood out to him enough for him to even mentally cross a professional line toward impropriety.

The day of the test that certainty had wavered a little bit. He hadn't _meant _to place his hand on her shoulder; he rarely touched _anyone_ at any time. Somehow his hand had just gravitated there, and he hadn't considered it a very big deal at first, not until he saw the startled reaction on Christine's lovely face, the obvious surprise in those striking brown eyes of hers. She had blushed a little bit, but it was a pleasant blush—not out of embarrassment, really, but out of pleasure. Her blush seemed to be because she enjoyed the contact. Initially he hadn't thought so, but then as he looked at her he could tell she hadn't even been able to focus.

When he left class that day he was a little less comfortable, and he thought of Christine a time or two that evening.

Then Monday, that cursed one week mark. Really, it marked only the fourth time he saw her, but there was something a little different that day. Christine had arrived early and she seemed a little eager to talk to him. Amused, he wondered if his pupil was developing the slightest hint of a teacher crush. It wouldn't be the first female student who had found herself strangely entranced by the mystery and the wisdom that Erik seemed to exude as he lectured. Over the years, there had been a few. None of them lasted, and none of them really mattered; certainly none of the interest had ever been returned.

Asking her to sing the scales had been a spontaneous request. When he got to class that morning, he had planned to play the scale on the piano, not to have a student sing. As she was talking to him, however, the idea hit him to ask her to sing it. He didn't know why, but it didn't seem like a huge deviation.

It had probably been a bad idea.

The classic beauty of her face and figure had been easy to dispel from his mind; the sound of her voice, however, was not going away so easily. Erik's own mother, Madeline, was so obsessed with beauty—and Erik himself was so lacking in that department—that he had developed something of an apathetic disregard for beauty. Unattainable as it was to him, he thought it would be a purely masochistic thing for him to worship.

Music was his weakness. Beauty that came from within, that began in the soul, vibrated through your entire being, and finally flowed out of you to be shared with the world. _That _kind of beauty was capable of haunting him.

Unfortunately, Christine Daaé seemed to have beauty in spades; physical beauty wasn't enough, she also had to monopolize by having the voice of an absolute angel.

He wanted to hear her _really _sing. Knowing that her voice could be beautiful in its most basic form, he craved more. He wanted to hear her sing lyrics, he wanted to hear musical accompaniment in the background. If she could make singing the scales sound beautiful, he could guess at how capable she would be at bringing real music to life.

However, he didn't want to only guess.

Tuesday night as he sat in the chorus practice and listened to the other students who were not nearly as good as Christine, he had to fight an urge to grimace. Once or twice, he really thought about getting up and leaving.

Unfortunately, he would have to talk to Gail after practice to ask her to allow Christine to audition the following night, so he could not leave. Since Gail officially ran the chorus—and Erik only assisted from time to time—he would need her clearance, but he knew that she would give it easily once he made the request.

By the time Wednesday finally rolled around, Erik was even a little annoyed at _himself _for the little extra kick that had been in his step since he awoke—at 4 am—in anticipation of not only seeing her in class, but getting to hear her sing.

It was a little unnerving how quickly his interest in the damn girl was growing. Under no circumstances should he _already _be so eager to see her.

Considering she was his student, he should really _never _be so eager to see her. Michelangelo may have been able to get away with that kind of behavior, but it was hardly befitting a modern faculty member of a prestigious university.

Not that he didn't know professors who had dallied with students, but he had always found the lechers rather repugnant when he found out about it.

Upon entering the classroom, Erik easily caught Christine's gaze. She was grinning at him, her eyes bright as she called out a greeting and took her seat at the front of the class.

It thrilled him a little how she always sat closest to him.

With impossible timing, Christine's phone began to loudly play "Somewhere Over the Rainbow."

Christine's eyes widened to the size of silver dollars as she momentarily stared at the phone as if it had betrayed her, then she quickly snapped her hand over it, silencing it and ignoring the call.

"I'm so sorry! I thought I had my phone silenced."

Smiling slightly, he said, "It's okay; class hasn't even begun yet, you can silence it now."

Shaking her head, she said, "People know I'm in class right now. If you're not dying, why would you call me when you know I'm in class?"

"Well, perhaps they are dying; you didn't answer the phone call to find out."

Rolling her eyes intolerantly, she said, "I highly doubt it."

Lightly smirking, he glanced at her phone and said, "Wizard of Oz fan, huh?"

Christine flushed a little, averting her gaze. "Sort of. I was in the stage production of it locally when I was a kid and… it's a long… stupid story," she finished in a mumble.

Erik nodded and briefly turned his head when Carlotta Montez came strolling in, suddenly sporting red hair with black streaks. He wasn't certain, but he didn't think that was what she had looked like when she had come in Monday.

Christine looked less than pleased that Carlotta was there so early, and instead of talking to him she grabbed her phone and quickly tapped out a message, then she shoved the silenced phone out of sight and out of mind.

The rest of the students eventually came strolling in and Erik gathered up his lecture notes, hoping that the class would fly. He was so eager to introduce Christine to Gail and listen to her sing, he felt a little bit like a child on Christmas morning.

He had been so eager to finish that he ended up talking faster than usual and he finished the class ten minutes early. His students were pleased, although he warned them not to get used to it, and then he gathered up his items as Christine slowly gathered her own things, allowing the other students to file out.

"Do you mind if I walk with you? I'm not entirely sure where I'm supposed to audition."

Smiling, Erik nodded. "Of course you can walk with me."

Walking beside Christine as they left the room was a new experience. Erik was used to standing above her and lecturing her as she sat with the rest of the students, but walking beside her he could see her so much closer—and if possible, she was even more beautiful up close. Her skin was as pale and delicate as porcelain, her lips a rosy shade of pink, those luscious brown eyes of hers surrounded by thick, long eyelashes that curved up naturally. While some girls seemed entirely too fond of make-up, Christine appeared natural with only a touch of mascara and perhaps some lip gloss. She was absolute perfection, and no make-up could improve upon perfection.

A rude passerby was busy talking to his buddy and he bumped into Christine. In an attempt to avoid the collision, she moved closer to Erik, but since he still hit her in the shoulder she collided with Erik's own shoulder.

Blushing again, Christine said, "I'm sorry!"

"Don't be," Erik said, wanting to give the boy a dirty look for being so careless as to bump into her, but unable to muster the irritation as he quite enjoyed the feel of Christine's body brushing up against his, even if only accidentally.

Not good thoughts to be having, he told himself.

"So, if I pass the audition phase, do I find out right away, or do I wait to hear back?" Christine wondered.

"You'll know immediately," Erik replied. "I've already spoken to Gail about you; at this point an audition is more of a formality."

"Oh. Will she mind that I can't come tomorrow?"

"I already told her you wouldn't be able to make it tomorrow. Did you find out if you're going to be able to make it next week?"

Making a face, Christine said, "I asked my boss, but he bit my head off and said that I would get my schedule on Friday just like everybody else. I guess I won't be able to let you know until Monday. Will it be okay to miss two, though? I've already missed one last week."

"Preferably you should be there next week, but if it's absolutely impossible then you'll just come the following week. If you need more practice or you fall behind at all, I would be more than happy to stay after class one day and practice with you."

"Really? That's so nice of you, but I wouldn't want to bother you like that."

"No, it would really be no bother whatsoever," he assured her. "If you need _any _sort of help with your music, voice lessons, assignments, anything, please don't hesitate to ask me."

"You're a really great teacher, you know that? I'm not trying to suck up or anything, but I thought I should tell you."

His lips curved up wryly but he didn't say anything, just continued to walk the hallway with her pleasant companionship.

The woman that Christine surmised must be Gail was a woman in her mid-to-late 40's with blonde hair that was cropped off to her chin and a pair of dark-rimmed glasses balancing precariously on the bridge of her nose. She was seated and going through a folder when they approached her, but as soon as they approached, she flipped the folder shut and immediately hopped to her feet, offering a pleasant smile and an outstretched to Christine.

"You must be Erik's little ingénue," she remarked pleasantly.

Vaguely blushing, Christine gave a modest head shake and said, "I don't know if I'd go that far…"

Gail still only smiled, but that time she aimed her smile at Erik. "Let's get this show on the road, eh? I've got plans with my husband, and if I want to keep on _having _a husband, I need to show up."

Nodding his head, Erik told Christine to go up to the stage and he went over to the piano and took a seat. "Do you have a song preference?"

Feeling a little shy about singing in front of the woman she didn't even know without even a chance to warm up, Christine merely shook her head, biting her lip, and hoping she didn't look as nervous as she felt.

Smiling slightly, Erik started playing, and he allowed her to listen for a moment to catch on, and when she did she laughed a little and nodded her approval, dropping her books and approaching the middle of the stage, in Gail's view and closer to Erik.

As Erik played the music over from the beginning, she began to sing along.

_Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high _

_There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby._

_Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue_

_And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true._

_Someday I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me._

_Where troubles melt like lemon drops, away above the chimney tops,_

_That's where you'll find me…_

Although she was probably supposed to be hoping for Gail's approval, she found herself glancing over at Erik as she prepared to sing the rest. He appeared to approve, his eyes burning with an intensity she didn't quite understand, but she found it encouraging nonetheless.

_Somewhere over the rainbow bluebirds fly,_

_Birds fly over the rainbow_

_Why then, oh why can't I?_

_If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow_

_Why, oh why can't I?_

Erik played the last lingering bits of the melody and then he sat back and merely watched Christine.

Unsurprisingly, Gail grinned, standing up, and said, "Are you sure you only want a spot in the chorus, honey?"

"You liked it then?" Christine asked, flushing with pleasure.

"Liked it? I loved it. Judy Garland would be green if she could hear you sing it. You have a beautiful voice. Of course, I expected as much; Erik isn't easily impressed." Tossing her folder into the briefcase in the seat next to her, she said, "Well, I have to run, I apologize for the rush, but I'll let Erik fill you in on the details."

"Thank you so much," Christine said, her mood soaring as she glanced around the stage. It had been so long since she had performed—even to such a small audience—that she forgot the glowing feeling it produced in her.

Sighing a little as her thoughts drifted, she felt a brief stab of sadness that she couldn't experience more of it.

Gail waved goodbye to both of them and made her way through the doors while Erik stood up from the piano and walked over to her, a look in his eye that she couldn't put a name to.

Blushing a little, she offered a timid smile and said, "Nice song choice."

Shrugging, he said, "I figured you would remember the lyrics. Your voice is… heavenly, Christine. Why are you not studying music?"

The intensity of his words caused her blush to deepen even more; she knew her voice was fairly good, but she didn't think it warranted such admiration. "I'm trying to be practical. I have to study something that I'll be able to _use_, something that will get me a job so I can support myself. Music is my hobby, but it isn't going to feed me."

"I disagree," he told her. "With a voice as lovely as yours, you would never have to fear going hungry, Christine."

_I would never _let _you go hungry, _he thought, but stifled the foolish thought.

Breaking the eye contact but maintaining her smile, she hunched to grab her backpack and sling it over her shoulder, then she met his eyes again. "Thank you very much for this, for… encouraging me to make time for something I love. I appreciate that."

"You're welcome," he replied, his gaze never leaving her eyes. It bothered him, the way that she was so willing to put aside what she loved for practicality's sake—sure, he understood that her more pragmatic side probably attributed musical success to bubblegum pop stars, and Christine would certainly never be one of them. But why couldn't she see what he saw in her?

Her eyes dancing with humor, she said, "Well, to avoid going hungry, I should probably go. I was running too late for breakfast this morning."

In a rather uncharacteristic loss of power, his mind was too slow for his mouth, and before he could think better of it, the words slipped past his lips: "Would you like to have dinner with me?"

Her eyes widened very slightly and her jaw dropped the merest bit.

"To—to discuss your future, perhaps. I meant professionally, of course."

He thought she looked a little embarrassed as she nodded, saying, "Oh, right, of course."

"If you don't want to—it was probably inappropriate of me to…"

"No, not at all," she quickly assured him. "I'd… I'd love to."

"You're sure? I don't want you to feel like you have to…"

"No," she insisted. "I don't. I'd really like to."

"All right. Do you have any preference of where you'd like to eat?"

"Nope, anywhere's fine with me." Her phone began vibrating and she grabbed it, looking down at the number and scowling.

He told himself not to do it, but as his will-power was running low that day, he slyly peered over to see the name flashing across the screen. Scarecrow?

Pushing the ignore button, she dropped the phone in her bag with a rather irritated expression. Then, clearing the irritation from her face, she smiled up at Erik. "Sorry about that. Do you want to go now?"

"Sounds good to me," he told her with a nod. "Do you like Italian?"

"Love it. If I could eat pasta every single day of my life, I would."

Smiling slightly, he said, "Italian it is. I know a great place closer to my apartment building, it's near Central Park. We could probably take the subway and be there in about 15 minutes."

"I think I can wait that long. You live close by then?"

Nodding, he said, "Not far. I walk to work most of the time. I'm over on West 96th, actually, but it's not too long a walk."

Eyes widening, she said, "Oh my gosh, I work so close to where you live! I work at a little diner-slash-café on Broadway between 94th and 95th street."

"You're a waitress?"

"A hostess, actually. They like to keep a two or three girl floor at most so that they actually make some money, so they have a hostess to seat people and get them drinks. It's a cake job, really. I'm mostly just making minimum wage to be a waitress helper, but when they get busy and no one has time to roll silverware or make back-up condiments, I'm nice to have around. I also do any to-go orders, which is sometimes a pain, but sometimes cool because sometimes you get tipped for packing the order and everything."

"Sounds stimulating," he remarked ironically.

"Yes, well… it's a job, I guess."

Shaking his head, he found himself impatient that Christine should have to settle for anything, ever, even temporarily. "You should have a better job than that."

"Agreed," she answered with an easy smile. "As soon as I find one, I'll get right on that."

-o-

* * *

**A/N:** What do you guys think? :)


	5. Dinner AntiDate

**A/N:** I should be doing homework, but writing is so much more fun, yes? :)

To my reviewers: thank you guys so so so so much for the feedback! I was so happy when I read them, I just had to tell my homework it could wait a little while so I could work on an update. :)

**Broken-Vow:** By Raoul-friendly, I meant he isn't going to be a bad guy. My interpretation of Raoul is not as anti-Raoul as many E/C-shippers but—at least, _my_ interpretation of even the original book—he is a bit… well, foppish. I wanted to clarify that while I'm not a Raoul fan, I'm also not going to be a writer who makes him out to be a villain; honestly, I've read so many "Raoul is the evil villain because we simply don't like him, mwahahaha!" stories that I just wanted to be really up-front about it. I feel like villainy is way outside of Raoul's character, and without good reason, I wouldn't resort to presenting him that way. In this story he's just a bit dense. (And… I kind of think that Raoul thrown into the modern day would be a little bit douche-y, hence my presentation of his character, lol.) Thanks for the feedback! :)

-o-

The restaurant was lovely.

Christine tried not to notice, but with its dim lighting and tables tucked nicely into darkened corners with only soft candlelight, she found the place extremely… romantic.

Erik seemed to realize, once they were being seated at one of the romantic little tables and immediately approached by a finely dressed waiter with a bottle of wine in his hand, that it was perhaps not the ideal teacher-student-casual-dinner-spot. Looking vaguely uncomfortable, he glanced at Christine to see if she felt any discomfort.

"Thanks," Christine said with a pleasant smile as they were seated, unfolding the cloth napkin and putting it in her lap.

"May I start you off with a glass of wine?" the waiter offered, bending at the waist as if he already planned to pour the glass.

"Um…" Before Erik could respond, the waiter was opening the wine and positioning the neck on the little white towel he carried so as not to touch it as he poured. "I guess so."

The waiter poured the wine into Christine's glass without glancing at her, then he poured into Erik. As he straightened, his gaze caught Christine's and he immediately smiled, becoming even more courteous. "Would you like to begin with an appetizer, or would you like a moment to look over the menu?"

Not liking the way the waiter was looking at Christine—the apparent interest in his audacious gaze—Erik snapped, "We need a moment."

The command in Erik's tone was unmistakable, and the waiter's gaze snapped to Erik, then he offered a single nod. "Of course, sir. I will come back in a few minutes."

Shaking his head, Erik muttered, "Insolent boy."

Christine grinned, bringing the wine glass to her lips and taking a little sip.

As if he hadn't even thought of it, Erik watched her take a sip and then his eyes widened slightly. "Are you old enough to drink? I didn't even think…"

"One glass of wine with dinner isn't going to hurt anything," she assured him.

"I wasn't quite thinking. It's rare that I go out to eat with anyone, but I completely forgot your age."

Shrugging, she said, "It's just a number anyway, right? Why don't you go out to eat often? I love to go out to eat."

"I stay in a lot," he said simply. "I brought my sister here over the summer, but it slipped my mind that the atmosphere was so…"

"Romantic?" she provided with a grin.

Nodding, he said, "I liked the dim-lighting when it wasn't inappropriate."

"No, it's not inappropriate," Christine assured him, shaking her head. "I promise not to try to play footsie with you beneath the table, if that will put your mind more at ease."

Smiling a little at her teasing, he said, "Well, I am _immensely _relieved now; thank you, Christine, you're an angel."

Laughing, she took another sip of her wine and then replaced the glass on the table. "Have you ever been on a date here?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head.

"You brought your sister here, though. What's your sister's name? How old is she?"

"Her name is Meredith, and she is 26, though she'll be 27 in a month."

"Is she your only sibling?"

"Yes," he verified with a nod. "I was intended to be an only child, but Meredith was a surprise."

"There are a few years between you… how many, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Ten," he answered simply. "More or less. I turned 37 in the end of May."

Yep, definitely old enough to be her father. Nodding, she ignored that minor detail and said, "A Gemini?"

"Indeed. When is yours?"

"It was August 20th," she provided.

"And you turned…?" he asked, vaguely grimacing.

"Thirty-four," she stated unflinchingly.

Chuckling, he said, "Oh, I'm sure."

Nodding solemnly, she said, "Tell me more about yourself."

"I would prefer to hear about you," he replied.

"Well, we can take turns, can't we?" Glancing at the menu, she frowned at the fact that everything was written in Italian. "Um… first question, do you happen to speak Italian?"

"I do," he answered.

"I don't," Christine retorted. "Could you possibly recommend something without seafood, preferably with pasta?"

"Certainly. How do you feel about tomatoes?"

"Tomatoes and I have never had any problems with each other."

The waiter appeared again, standing closer to Christine and giving her a handsome smile. "Did you want some more time?"

"We would like to start with an order of bruschetta," Erik stated. "And we're going to need just another moment to decide on our main courses."

"Of course," the waiter said, offering yet another smile at Christine.

Completely ignoring the waiter, she took a sip of her wine and gazed across the table at Erik. He hadn't touched his wine yet, his napkin remained on the table folded up, and for the most part he looked like he hadn't quite decided if he wanted to commit to staying for the meal or not.

"Do you not like the wine?" she asked, gazing pointedly at his untouched glass.

Seeming a little surprised, he looked at the wine glass as if he had forgotten it was there. "I don't generally drink wine, but this is a good selection. Do you like it?"

"I do," she stated. "So, when did you learn to speak Italian? Can you speak any other languages?"

"Several," he answered. "Languages have always come rather easily to me. I speak Italian, French, Spanish and German fluently, and I have a pretty firm grasp of Persian and Russian as well. I know snippets of Arabic, Punjabi and Urdu also."

Blinking, Christine said quite intelligently, "Wow."

"Do you know any other languages?"

"French. Just French and English for me. I'm learning Spanish this year, but as far as my Italian goes… I can say ciao. What exactly _is _Urdu? I've never heard of it."

"They speak Urdu and Punjabi in Pakistan. I spent some time in Lahore and I picked up some of it."

"You've been to Pakistan?" she asked, her eyes going wide.

"Yes, I traveled there with a friend after we left Persia. It isn't the safest country in the world, but Lahore offers a lot of culture. We saw the Badshahi Mosque and Nadir was able to visit family. Speaking of family, I believe you neatly sidestepped having to tell me about yours."

Offering a smile, she said, "Oh, well, there isn't much to tell. I'm an only child. My father was very musical, that's probably why I love it so much, but he died and now I live with my mother."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Do you and your mother live nearby?"

Shaking her head, she answered, "No, unfortunately not. My best friend Meg has been _begging _me to move into the city and room with her, but… rent's so expensive in this city, and living with my mom is just more practical."

"Then you live close to the city?"

"It takes me about an hour each way to get to and from school," she replied.

The eyebrow she could see shot up. "So, _not _close then?"

Christine shook her head, but she still offered a slight smile. "Have you always wanted to be a teacher? Were you a teacher when you were in Persia and Pakistan, or were you just on vacation?"

"I lived in Persia for a time. I was working, but I was actually doing architecture at the time, not teaching. I've always enjoyed teaching, but to be honest, I think of it more as a hobby than a career."

"You're an architect, too?" she asked, impressed all over again.

Erik nodded, finally picking up his wine glass and taking a drink.

"Is there anything you can't do?" she asked him, trying to temper her building awe of him.

"Swim," he stated. "I'm like a cat when you throw me in the water."

"I can swim," she volunteered. "If anyone throws you in the water, I'll make sure I pull you out."

"Note to self: make sure Christine is around if ever thrown in water."

The waiter came back _again_ and Erik flashed him a rather irritated glance, at that point irritated more by the young man's existence than his desire to take their order. Informing him that they were ready that time, he ordered for himself and for Christine. The waiter nodded, glanced at Christine again, and then went to put their order in.

Glaring at the back of the handsome boy's head, Erik's hand absently touched the bottom of his mask.

Watching the silent—almost unconscious—movement, Christine wanted to ask about the mask, but stopped herself since she figured it probably wasn't appropriate yet. It was something she was understandably curious about, but she didn't want to offend him by asking. Also, it didn't really matter to her. She wasn't naïve enough to assume that he covered half of his face because he was simply eccentric, but whatever was wrong with that side of his face, it was all but irrelevant; if she asked him about it, he might think it _did _matter to her.

For the moment, she would leave it alone.

Clearing his throat, Erik's tone changed, became less casual and increased in its guarded formality. "So, Miss Daaé, tell me why someone with your talent isn't even going to _attempt _a career in music?"

Sardonically smiling at the fact that she was no longer Christine and suddenly Miss Daaé, she debated for a moment whether to call him Erik or Dr. Destler. Deciding that the latter could come off as childish, she fell to the former. "Well, Erik, as I mentioned before, I have this crazy idea of being able to support myself financially after I graduate from college, and it seems a little bit… far-reaching to assume music will do that for me. Plenty of people want to make a living as musicians and singers, but the likelihood of it actually happening… not very good."

"I disagree," he stated. "You have talent, Christine, you have a beautiful voice. It's a little out of practice, certainly, but with the proper practice and training, I could have your voice in perfect condition. All you need is to meet the right people, take the right opportunities, and I guarantee you that you would be able to have a career in music."

"I barely even have the time to practice," she disagreed, shaking her head. "As you said, you demand your students to be serious about music."

"I do," he replied firmly. "It's the only way."

"Maybe so, but when you have to work five nights a week _and _try to keep up with four additional classes, it isn't realistic," she stated.

"I maintain that you shouldn't be working so much," Erik informed her.

"Well, as soon as my fairy godmother drops off a check for my tuition, I'll look into cutting my hours. You were a college student once, didn't you ever have to do this?"

Smiling slightly, he said, "Actually, no, not when I was your age. I went to college, of course, but my parents paid my tuition and I only worked very part-time for spending money."

"Lucky," she stated. "Where did you go to school?"

"Well, for the first three years I studied in Paris, then I spent a year and a half in Italy, and I moved back to Paris to finish out my bachelor's in architecture. Upon my graduation, I went to work for a firm in Germany for two years, then I ventured to Russia but… aside from the tea, I didn't care for it, and there was a commission in Persia that I heard about and wanted, so… I headed there."

"Were you in Persia long?" Christine asked, her attention rapt.

"Nearly four years," he allowed. "I've spent more time in the US, but I daresay Persia was probably the most influential period of my life."

"How did you end up in music? I assume you were an architect in Persia?"

Nodding with an almost absent-minded gaze, he said, "For the most part. I returned the US shortly before my 30th birthday and opened my own architecture firm with my friend, Nadir. However, my time in Persia made me realize I needed to return my attention to music, so I went back to school while we built up the business, and got my PhD in Music Theory and Cognition from Northwestern University, a school just outside of Chicago."

"Wow," she said again. "How did you run a business _and _get a PhD? I can barely manage hostessing and pursuing a _bachelor's_."

"Nadir is my vice president, but I make him do a lot. He's currently in California overseeing a project since I'm tied up with teaching and can't make the trip."

"You _still _have the business?"

"Yes. The firm's main office is in my building now; it makes balancing the two much easier than you would think."

"So… you have _two _jobs then? You're a professor _and _an architect?"

"You can add CEO to my job titles if you'd like," he offered. "I also compose from time to time; I've sold a few of my compositions, but I don't do it often enough to really add it to my job titles."

Frowning, she said, "When do you have time for a social life?"

Chuckling derisively, Erik explained, "I don't find a social life necessary. I have my work, I have Nadir to keep me in touch with things—I keep myself busy."

"I see that. I feel like I'm cutting into your schedule just by sitting here with you."

Shaking his head, he said, "No, not at all. I'm afraid I get terribly bored; nothing I do seems to challenge me anymore. Truthfully, that's why I took the opportunity to teach at Columbia; I was hoping the change would sustain me."

"Well… did it work? Does teaching us sustain you?"

With a rather dry quirk of his lips, he remarked, "I find myself sustained, but not in the way I had imagined."

Unsure of what to make of that comment, she merely smiled and took another sip of her wine.

-o-

When she returned home that evening, nothing was capable of bringing her mood down, not even the heaping pile of homework that awaited her and promised to suck up the rest of her evening.

Erik was fascinating. Their entire dinner had been absolutely enthralling to Christine; he was so worldly and intelligent, and for all that he had shared, she still felt like there was so much she didn't know. Even though he told her a lot, it seemed that he had done it in such a way that he really didn't reveal anything about himself. He revealed biographical facts, but nothing very personal. She had no idea why he wore the mask, or why some sensible woman—or ten—hadn't scooped him up years earlier. There were still so many questions left unanswered, so many things she still wanted to know about him.

Reminding herself that he was her teacher and despite the impromptu dinner invite, he did _not _see her that way… well, even _that _failed to lessen her good mood.

What finally put her mood over the top was the offer he had made her: since she was unable to attend her voice instruction as well as she would like to during school hours, he offered to help her at any time that she had—even before or after work—and to give her private voice training if she so desired it. Since his apartment was close to her work, he even offered to bring her to his apartment to his music room and teach her there if it wouldn't make her uncomfortable.

Although she couldn't explain it, she found his reassurances that he didn't want to make her uncomfortable completely unnecessary; for whatever reason, she couldn't imagine being around him _ever _feeling uncomfortable. Being around Erik felt like the most natural thing in the world, especially outside of the classroom.

Of course, she probably had no business hanging out with him outside of the classroom. He had also been clear that if he gave her private voice lessons it would just be _more _work; he couldn't go easy on her in the music theory class, as it wouldn't be fair. She told him she understood, that she would never expect him to go easy on her in class for any reason.

As per usual, she called Meg before it got late to catch up on the day's happenings. The whole way home she had tried to figure out what she would tell Meg when the subject inevitably came out, and in the end she decided to tell her the truth, just swear her to secrecy in the event that it might come off as inappropriate.

When Meg heard that after the audition, Erik had offered to take Christine to dinner, there was an audible gasp on the other end.

"Before you get carried away—"

"He asked you _out_? No way!"

Rolling her eyes, Christine fell back on her bed. "Too late, huh? He did _not _ask me out, and you can't say a word to _anyone_, _ever_."

"I won't, I won't," Meg promised. "But come _on_, tell me how this happened."

"I already told you," Christine stated, trying not to get caught up in Meg's giddy excitement. "It was _not _a date. It was totally appropriate. He thinks I have a really good voice, he thinks I'm talented, and it bothers him that I'm not putting it to good use. As my teacher, he wanted to talk to me about my options."

"Right," Meg drawled. "And instead of doing it in the classroom or in his office like any other professor, he invited you to a romantic Italian restaurant. _Clearly _it was strictly professional."

"It _was _strictly professional," Christine stated. "You can't be saying otherwise. If anything like that got out, he could get in big trouble. He could probably lose his job—not that he doesn't have like 8 back-up careers, but that's not the point. Erik is a really great teacher—he's stern, but he really knows what he's doing. Once you get past the initial surprise and rough patch where you realize he means business… he seems like a really good teacher. He even offered to give me private voice lessons if I can't find time to practice at school."

"Private voice lessons, eh?" Meg asked slyly. "Where would these private lessons take place?"

Blushing a little, Christine said, "I'm not even going to tell you, because you're going to make this dirty when it isn't."

Snorting, Meg said, "His apartment, huh? Well, I'd say it's safe to say the Naughty Professor totally digs you back. What are you doing about Raoul?"

"Meg, you are… so far ahead of yourself. I told you, Erik's only interest in me is my voice. He thinks I have a talent, and he has this passion for music—he had a successful career as an architect and he _still _went back to music. Did I tell you he's a composer, too? And his sister is a violinist and a cello player—she actually does it for a living. He said that in a few weeks she's going to be performing in some French version of Cinderella. You just… you had to be there. He is _so _cool."

"He sounds cool," Meg said, the grin evident in her tone. "Like I said, what are we doing about the hot jock? It must be nice having _two _guys take you out, I can't even get one."

"Ugh, Meg, I swear, your focus is astonishing. I told you, there's nothing to be done. Yes, I may have a bit of a teacher crush, but it isn't mutual and I'm sure it's only because I admire him so much. He's so smart and… fascinating, and talented and… well, how could anyone _not _be at least a little interested in the guy? He's awesome. That being said, he is my professor, and he made it _very _clear when he asked me to dinner that it was professional. He wasn't hitting on me."

"Well, yeah, _after _the fact," Meg said as if it should be common sense. "The guy asked you to dinner, and then he realized he just asked out a student, had an 'oh shit' moment, and tried to backpedal."

"It wasn't like that at all."

"Who paid?" Meg asked simply.

"Well, he did, but that's because—"

"Because it was more or less a date?"

"It was _not _a date at all. I told you, we just had dinner, got to talk about our lives, I found out how he got where he is, we talked about my future…"

"You had dinner and got to know each other—that's what people do on first dates."

"It wasn't a date, and I'm not arguing the fact with you anymore."

"Fine. And Raoul?"

"Ugh, Meg. Seriously."

Sighing, Meg said, "_Fine_, the first interesting thing to happen so far this semester, and we'll pretend it's nothing. I mean, it's not like your professor took you out on _exactly _the same date that Raoul took you out on. Then again, when Raoul took you out, you tried to tell me _that _wasn't a date, too… I think you might be in a constant state of denial, my dear."

"It wasn't the same date, Raoul took me to a completely different restaurant up near Times Square. Just because both restaurants are Italian… I mean, that doesn't make it the same date."

"So… you're admitting they were both dates?"

"No."

"Fine, can we at least agree now that the thing with Raoul was a date?"

"It… was date-like, but I'm not sure if I want to call it a date," Christine said carefully.

"You're exhausting," Meg stated.

"But you love me," Christine shot back.

"God only knows why. Hey, you know what, I'm getting call-waiting here, but why don't we grab dinner before you leave campus tomorrow?"

"Can't, I have to work tomorrow night."

"You suck. Fine. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay, love you."

"Love you too. Have sweet dreams of your many suitors."

"Good bye," Christine said, smothering a smile as she rolled her eyes.

Sighing as she tossed her phone down on the bed next to her, Christine tugged her Spanish textbook over and began studying, shoving away her thoughts of her dinner with her intriguing masked professor.

-o-

**A/N: **You like? :)


	6. Weekend Plans

**A/N:** Hola, dear readers! Thank you so much for your feedback! :)

* * *

-o-

* * *

Christine's boss hadn't been extremely pleased when she informed him she could no longer work Thursday nights, and he walked away muttering about having to work around everybody's schedule.

Privately, she wondered why she was supposed to work her entire life—her school career, her study schedule—around a minimum wage job. Wisely, she kept the query to herself.

The boss posted the next week's schedule that evening, and Christine saw that one of her days had been cut—she was down to four. Inwardly simmering over her boss and how ridiculous he was being, she wanted to say something to him, but she kept her thoughts to herself. He would probably only punish her for that week, and honestly, having an extra day off that week would be fantastic—she already felt like she was falling behind in her Spanish class, and it was only the second week.

Raoul was making a rather annoying habit of calling her every single day, and on the days she had her music theory class, that had a tendency to really irk her. Lingering to possibly talk to Erik would be fantastic, but with Raoul blowing up her phone, she felt rushed.

Did he not understand that she didn't want to talk to him immediately after her music theory class?

Friday was no different—as soon as class was over and students began filing out, groaning sympathetically with each other about the massive amount of homework Erik had given them for the weekend, Christine's phone started vibrating crazily on the table next to her books. Glaring at the thing, she looked to see that it said, "Scarecrow," allowed herself an unkind internal comment directed at Raoul _being _a scarecrow for not realizing she didn't want to talk right then, and then she pushed ignore and shoved the phone in her pocket as she stood up and belatedly crammed her books into her bags.

"I told my boss I couldn't work next Thursday or any Thursdays anymore," Christine ventured.

"Did you? So he'll give you the days off then?"

"Well, he cut one of my days altogether to retaliate, but yes, I think he'll give me Thursdays off."

"He cut one of your days? To be petty?"

"Naturally. It's okay though, I'm sure it was a one-week thing, and I really need to try to catch up on my Spanish. My professor explained in no uncertain terms that if we don't emblazon the foundational stuff into our heads, we're going to be completely lost later."

"True," Erik agreed, nodding. "There are cognates between Spanish and English and Spanish and French though, so your knowledge of those languages should help."

"Yeah," she said hesitantly. "The thing is, while my French is decent, I don't think I could go to Paris and converse with someone without struggling. As _importante _as studying is, when I'm working _cinco dias_ a week, sometimes it's _muy dificil_."

Smiling a little, Erik said, "Yes, I understand it can be difficult. Your Spanglish is good though, so I'm sure you'll catch on. Are any of your friends taking it? I find a lot of language students learn the most when they're able to interact with someone, that way they're actually vocally utilizing their knowledge of the language."

"Nope," Christine said, shaking her head. "It's only the second week though, there's always a chance I'll make friends with _someone_. There is one girl that sits next to me and she seems to have a pretty good handle on it, but I don't want to ask her to study—she has a 16-month-old son, I imagine that would be distracting."

"I imagine so," he agreed. "Well, you'll have to prioritize, Christine—obviously your education is more important than working a minimum wage job."

Nodding her head, Christine didn't bother to tell him that it was equally important to keep a roof over her head—something her mother was hard-pressed to do without financial assistance from her daughter.

"What are you working on in Spanish?"

"We're doing numbers, greetings, conversational stuff about what classes we're taking, just basic beginning interactions; next week we start nouns, verbs and adjectives. I feel like I'm in first grade with the content, but it's just so time-consuming to learn it."

"You're a smart girl, you'll get it," he assured her. "At the risk of being too eager to help, I would also remind you that I'm fluent in Spanish and since I am a teacher, I could go at your pace if you needed someone to study with."

Shaking her head with a vague smile, Christine said, "I swear, you're like the best teacher ever. You already have 18 jobs; I couldn't possibly ask you to tutor me in a subject that you don't even teach."

Shrugging, he said, "I told you, I enjoy teaching. Since it isn't pertaining to music, I would probably even go easier on you."

"Eh, you're not so bad," she told him with a smile. "I like that you're strict; you make sure we learn more, you challenge us… if I didn't have to work and I could devote all my energy to school, I would _love _that."

Her phone started vibrating in her pocket again, but she valiantly ignored it, slinging her messenger bag over her shoulder.

"Well, my offer stands—all of them, actually," he amended with a little smile.

"I might have to take you up on one of those eventually."

"Anytime," he replied, nodding.

"If I do, I'm going find a way to make it up to you though," she stated, blurting without even thinking about the words she was using. It wasn't until his eyebrow shot upward that she realized exactly how far out of context that could be taken, and she flushed, adding, "It'll be my turn to buy _you _dinner or something."

Looking vaguely amused, Erik merely nodded his head again.

"I didn't mean… the way it… you know… sounded."

"In the cheap-porno-line kind of way? I assumed as much."

"Just making sure. Not that… I mean… You're very… And I… I'm just going to stop talking now," she decided with a nod.

"Probably for the best," he said, biting back a grin.

"I'm not normally such an idiot," she assured him.

"I don't think you're an idiot at all, Christine," Erik replied, gazing at her rather warmly from his spot behind the table.

Flushing with pleasure clear down to her toes, she offered a bright grin and said, "Well, I'll see you Monday."

"Enjoy your weekend," he returned, standing up and shoving his materials into his own bag.

"Oh, you too. Try to do something fun for a change. You know what they say about all work and no play," she said, her tone lightly teasing.

"Didn't work out too well for Jack," he stated.

Giving him a last little wave, she slipped out the door, but was caught off guard when she practically ran into Raoul right outside the door.

"God, you've gotta stop sneaking up on me like that," she muttered, unintentionally stealing a glance back at the classroom before promptly grabbing Raoul by the arm and hauling him down the hall as if the hounds of hell were at their heels.

"Whoa, what's the rush?" he asked, glancing back when he saw her still watching over her shoulder.

"Nothing," she said, trying not to be irritated that he was waiting for her outside of her classroom. "Well, I mean, I have to get to work, but… what are you doing?"

"I thought maybe we could grab some coffee or something before you go to work," he suggested.

Shaking her head, she said, "Thanks anyway, but I don't have time."

"Maybe you would if you didn't stay an hour after class," he remarked lightly. "How come the other people all leave and you're always stuck behind?"

"I'm not _stuck_, I was just… asking the professor some questions about the homework. I told you, he's strict, I want to make sure I get a good grade." Once they made it safely around the corner and she was confident that Erik wouldn't emerge and see her walking with Raoul—unless he did already—she felt a little more at ease. Why she felt the need to hide Raoul was beyond her—it wasn't as if Erik would care if she walked down the hall with a guy her own age.

Still, the sooner she had Raoul out of the building, the better she would feel. It was absurd, but she _felt _like Erik could see her, could hear their conversation, and even though she told herself she was being paranoid, she didn't feel like he approved.

"C'mon," she said, tugging Raoul by the arm.

"Well, let's go out after work then," he suggested, trailing along behind her. "When you get off, we can go out."

Shaking her head, she said, "Not tonight. I have like 25 hours of homework to do, and I need to get some sleep so that I can spend all day tomorrow doing it. Sunday I work, and Monday it all starts again."

"Well, surely you could carve some time out of your schedule tomorrow at least. We could grab dinner, maybe a movie or something."

"I don't have time for dinner and a movie," she said slightly apologetically. "If you pick one or the other, I can probably squeeze in a couple of hours, but that's really all I can do. I have a _lot _of homework and very limited time to do it."

"All right, well, I'll see what I can do. Tomorrow night, you and me—no excuses," he said with a little wink.

"As long as a house doesn't fall on me before then, I'll be there."

"Excellent. If you're going to go to work, I'm going to go grab some lunch, but I'll call you later and let you know what we're doing."

"Works for me," she said, nodding her head.

"Have fun at work."

"Oh, how could I not?" she answered sarcastically.

He reached over as if to take her hand, but she neatly swung her hand away, glancing nonchalantly at the students walking past as if she simply hadn't noticed.

Frowning a little, Raoul murmured goodbye again and walked off in a different direction.

Stealing a glance over her shoulder to make sure Erik hadn't mysteriously appeared for any given reason, she saw that he hadn't, and she felt a little bit relieved.

She was sure that Meg would have something to say about her paranoia of Erik thinking she was involved with someone, but there were some things Meg simply didn't need to hear about.

-o-

As per usual, Friday night was a busy one.

All the tables were filled and Christine was running around offering refills to tables with completely empty glasses, while she hoped the waitresses would pick up the _nearly _empty ones.

Of course as she was trying to carry three drinks to a table of obnoxiously loud adolescents, the phone started ringing, and the phone was her responsibility. Dropping off the cups at the table and continuing toward the phone without even bothering to stop walking, she grabbed the phone, automatically rambling off the greeting and grabbing two menus for the two people who had just walked in the door. She figured it was going to be _another _call-in, but it was only someone wanting to know how late they were open, so she told the person and then she hung up, taking the new couple back to their booth and asking what she could get them to drink.

As she went to get their iced teas, one of the waitresses called, "Christine, your to-go's ready."

"Yeah, I'll get to it in a sec," Christine returned, dropping a lemon into each of the iced tea cups. The door opened again, signifying another person to seat, and she practically growled.

"Why, why, _why _do I have to work Friday nights?" she muttered to herself.

"Because you help keep me sane," one of the waitresses returned, taking the iced tea cups right out of Christine's hands and flashing her a smile. "I got these, you go bag your to-go."

"Thanks, Gretchen," Christine said gratefully, running back into the kitchen to bag her to-go before she went to seat the new customers. There weren't a lot of tables anyway, and if they had a problem with waiting a whole minute to be greeted on a busy Friday nights, they could go directly to hell, as far as Christine was concerned.

The call-in was just a sandwich and fries, so she bagged it up and hauled it out into the bustling dining room. It was her habit to pay absolutely no attention to who she was waiting on—each group received a fake smile and an equally as insincere query as to how they were doing that particular evening, but she rarely remembered any of their faces and half the time she didn't even listen to their response—which was just as well, considering half of the jerks she waited on didn't even bother to acknowledge her when she tried to be polite.

She was brought up short, however, when she spotted the masked man waiting at her hostess stand. Flushing with pleasure, a grin bloomed on her face and she walked a little faster up to greet him.

"Hey, fancy seeing you here," she remarked teasingly as she put the bag on the counter. "Just one tonight?"

"Actually, I believe that's mine," Erik stated, indicating the bag she was holding.

"Turkey melt with fries?"

"That would be mine," he agreed, withdrawing his wallet from his back pocket. "How much do I owe you?"

"It's 7.99," she told him. "Did you know I worked here?"

"I made an educated guess," he admitted, half-smiling.

Grinning back at him, she said, "Well, it looks like I got to see you before Monday."

"Looks that way," he agreed, handing her a fifty-dollar bill.

"I'm glad," she added a little bravely, meeting his gaze briefly before putting his money in the drawer and counting out his change.

He watched her for a moment, then he asked, "Make any progress with your Spanish homework?"

"Nope," she admitted. "As soon as I left class I had to come here and start my shift, so… tomorrow I'll try to struggle through it."

"You don't work tomorrow?"

Shaking her head, she held his change out to him. "Nope, I'm off tomorrow, so I'll be able to get some homework done."

"This may be completely out of the question, and I apologize if it is, but I just so happen to know of a Spanish foreign film playing tomorrow night. You wouldn't have any interest in going, would you?"

"With you?" she asked, her eyes widening slightly.

"Yes?" he said, but it sounded like a question.

"Yes," she replied automatically. "Yes, definitely. I mean… I could stretch that and say it's studying, right?"

Smiling, Erik said, "I think so. Maybe we could grab dinner at a quiet little restaurant nearby and actually go over your _real _Spanish homework if you'd like."

"Oh, I'd like," she stated enthusiastically. Putting his money down on the counter, she grabbed a piece of receipt paper and jotted down her phone number, trying to ignore the way her hand was slightly shaking with her excitement. Then she handed it to him, saying, "Just in case you need it. Any idea as to what time?"

"Well, the movie's at 7:30. We would probably want time to eat and go over your homework _before _the movie since you have such a long commute back. Would five work for you?"

"Perfect," she agreed. "We can meet there at five. What's the address?"

Ripping in half the paper she had written her number on, Erik jotted something down on the blank half and handed it back to her. "This is the name of the restaurant, I'm not positive of the address, but I can look it up and get back to you."

"Oh, no, you don't have to. I can look it up myself," she assured him.

A young man came walking over to pay his bill, so Erik moved aside. "All right, then I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait," she said, stopping him and scooping up his change. Offering a smile, she said, "You forgot your change."

Shaking his head, he glanced back and said, "Keep it. It's your tip."

He was already halfway to the door, but she still called after him. "Your bill was eight dollars! You can't give me a forty-two dollar tip!"

Ignoring her, he offered a little wave and then he slipped out the door.

A little stunned, she glanced down at the money in her hands and then back at the door he walked out of.

"Don't you wish everyone tipped like that?" the man waiting to pay remarked, smiling a little.

"No kidding," she answered, tucking the money into her purse beneath the stand and taking his bill.

Normally she would ask him how everything had been or at least how he was, but her mind was completely out-of-sorts, her thoughts intent only on the man who had just walked out the door.

-o-

For the rest of the evening, she had an extra little kick in her step as she finished out her Friday night sentence, and it wasn't until Raoul called her as she was making her way home that she realized she had already made plans for Saturday night.

"Oh… right, tomorrow…"

"I'm thinking we can catch a movie. I've really been wanting to see—"

"Um, Raoul… I can't go to the movie tomorrow. I totally forgot about this one project that I have to do for Spanish, and it's going to eat up my whole night."

"You don't want to hang out?" he asked, sounding so disappointed that she felt guilty.

"No, I _want _to," she insisted, even though it wasn't _thoroughly _true. "It's just that I can't tomorrow. Maybe Sunday we could meet for coffee or something before I have to go to work if you have time."

"I guess we can do that," he replied dejectedly. "You can't even make a little bit of time for a movie?"

"No, I'm sorry," she said a little more sincerely, having the inky feeling that she was somehow cheating on him even though she hadn't committed to being his girlfriend and she wasn't going on a _date _with Erik. She still felt a bit guilty.

Not guilty enough to cancel on Erik, that was for sure, but still a little bit guilty.

"Listen, I'm just about to go down into the subway, so I'm probably going to lose the call."

"Yeah, I'll let you go," he said, still with that kicked-puppy tone of voice. "I guess I'll talk to you later. Call me tomorrow if you get a study break."

"Yeah, if I get time. I don't know if I will, but either way I'll see you Sunday."

Murmuring another sullen, "Yeah," he said goodbye and they hung up.

Sighing as she slipped the phone into her purse, Christine told herself there was absolutely no reason to feel bad. Okay, so blowing off a friend wasn't the nicest thing in the world to do, but she wasn't _completely _lying—Erik really was going to help her with her Spanish homework. She wasn't blowing off Raoul or homework for a _date _or anything, she was legitimately meeting a study-buddy… if teachers could be study-buddies. Either way, as long as no one knew about it, there was no reason it should be an issue.

Content that she had worked out all of the momentary kinks in her mind, she shoved away her vaguely guilty conscience and instead allowed herself to focus on spending the next evening with Erik.

-o-

**A/N:** Whatcha' think? :)


	7. Superheroes and Magic Lassos

**A/N:** Bonjour! Thank you very much for all your feedback! You guys are a.w.e.s.o.m.e!

Enjoy!

-o-

Meg sat on the couch, her legs curled up under her body as she munched on a bowl full of grapes in her small, shared one bedroom apartment. Christine was making consistent trips to and from Meg's closet, each time bringing a new item of clothing with her.

It had been like that for fifteen minutes, since Christine showed up unannounced on Meg's doorstep and asked if she could borrow a sweater.

"I just don't understand what happened to it," Christine was saying as she came in the living area again, that time holding up a black one-shoulder top and a burgundy corduroy jacket.

"I don't even know what sweater you're talking about," Meg stated, shaking her head. "Either way, I don't think Raoul is going to notice if your sweater matches your eyes—and if he does, you better be worried."

Rolling her eyes, Christine held the shirt up to her and then looked down at it. "Is this too whoreish?"

"Um, it's _mine_, so I'm going to go with no…"

"Yeah, but_ you_ can get away with ensembles like this without looking like a whore," Christine stated, sighing a little bit. "I think the one-shoulder thing is too much. A bare shoulder is so…"

"Inappropriate?" Meg asked mockingly, popping another grape in her mouth and rolling her eyes. "I swear, Christine, just join the convent and be done with it."

"Why aren't you helping me?" Christine asked, casting a furtive glance at the clock. "If I'm not out of here in ten minutes, I'm going to be late."

"What about the red drape neck shirt? That's a little bit sexy, but also totally conservative."

"No," Christine said, turning and heading back into the bedroom.

"What about my brown sweater dress?" Meg called to her best friend.

"No way; a dress is trying too hard."

"Oh, _right_—and spending an hour in your friend's closet rejecting every item of clothing in it is… what again? Refresh my memory."

"I just couldn't find anything in my own closet," Christine complained, walking back in with a red pea coat. "May I borrow this?"

"Of course," Meg returned, hopping off the couch and walking into the bedroom. "Is there anything you _haven't _looked at yet?"

"I don't know," Christine muttered. "I'm not good at this stuff."

Lightly shoving her friend aside, Meg reached into the closet, moved aside a few hangers, and promptly pulled out a black top. "Take your shirt off."

"You're not even going to buy me dinner first?" Christine joked.

"That's how I roll, baby," Meg stated, shoving the black top into Christine's hands.

Wrinkling up her nose, Christine said, "Just a black tank top?"

"Shut up; put the shirt on."

Rolling her eyes, Christine muttered, "Yes, boss," and promptly tugged her sweater off, pulling the black shirt on in its place. Once she glanced down at the shirt on her body, she realized it was a lovely cut-out tank—it was a solid black, but there was a little cut-out that showed just the right amount of cleavage without coming off as slutty.

"Wear that with those jeans, this coat, and my black scrunched boots."

Giving her friend a look of exaggerated respect, Christine stated, "I will never question you again."

"Hold on, let me find you a necklace. And you better not; when it comes to fashion, I know more than you."

Shaking her head as she shrugged on the pea coat to get a look at the overall result, Christine said, "You have the best clothes."

"You need to tell him to get off his cheap ass and take you to a nice restaurant; I'm dying to see you in that red knot-front dress of mine. It's sexy as hell, but I don't have the boobs for it."

"I don't know, I kind of like plum purple one with the square neck. It's more modest, a bit classier…"

"And the red one will make his eyes pop out of his head like an old cartoon. Priorities, my dear, priorities." Reaching into the closet, Meg withdrew another deep scarlet clothing item that Christine didn't immediately make out. "Perhaps you should take this to change into?" Meg asked teasingly.

Taking a better look, Christine saw that it was a pleated baby doll negligee with a satin bow. Blushing, she said, "Put that away."

"Well, with the lengths you're going to just to dress up for a date you told me yesterday was inconveniencing you, I have to wonder what changed."

Averting her gaze, Christine bit down on her lip before managing, "Nothing, I just figured if I'm going to take some time out of studying at home, I may as well enjoy myself, right?"

"I take it you've decided you like him now? I wasn't sure before."

Christine hated lying to her best friend, and she was an atrocious liar to boot, so she promptly looked for a subject change.

"Speaking of guys, did Jason ever call you?"

Rolling her eyes and taking the bait, Meg said, "Oh, please, I am _not _repeat-dating him. Just because I foolishly made out with him last night does _not _mean that—I blame you and Cassandra Wheatley, that girl was hell-bent on getting me drunk, and you weren't there to remind me it was a bad idea."

Smiling at how easily the subject was averted, Christine finished primping in front of the mirror as she dutifully listened to Meg complain about one of her other friends and her ex-boyfriend.

As long as they were talking about Meg's love life, Christine didn't have to worry about analyzing her own.

-o-

"What is your favorite class?" Erik asked in Spanish, not even bothering to look at the assortment of notes they had scattered across the table.

Grinning, she said, "_Muy facil! Mi clase favorita es teoría de música_."

'Very easy! My favorite class is music theory.'

Falling back into English, Erik smiled and said, "Aw, now you're just sucking up. Music theory is _not _your favorite class."

"Yes, it is," she argued. "I look forward to that one the most."

Pushing the random pages of Spanish notes together, he said, "Well, if you ask me, you shouldn't be so afraid of your Spanish class; you're doing very well."

"Well, yeah, because you just gave me a crash course; I wasn't doing so well _before _this dinner. Compliments to my tutor."

Inclining his head, he said, "You see, I told you I could be of assistance. Should we go over your work conversation again?"

Shaking her head, Christine said, "No, I think I got it. We could take a study break if you'd like. We can speak in English."

"We are speaking in English," he pointed out, his tone lightly amused. "What you would you like to talk about?"

Biting down on her lip, she hesitated for a moment. "Well, you didn't tell me much about yourself on a personal level. I mean… you did, but… you also didn't."

"I didn't think you'd care to know much about your teacher's personal life."

Her mouth puckered into an unconsciously perturbed expression at his reminder of their teacher-student status. "Well, as a teacher, no, I guess I don't care. But… I don't know, we're something like friends, right? I can keep the two things separate," she added quickly. "I mean, it's not like any of this has _anything _to do with my music theory class."

"You want to be my friend?" he asked, the eyebrow she could see shooting upward.

Nodding shyly, she said, "It kind of seems like we're at least heading in that direction. I mean, maybe I'm wrong, but… if I'm not, I do like to know a little bit more about the personal lives of my friends."

Sighing, Erik absently drummed his fingers on the pages of notes, remarking, "Making friends with students isn't generally wise…"

"I can keep it separate," she promised again. "I mean, if you _want _to be friends. _I'd _like to be friends."

"I don't have many friends," he informed her, regarding her thoughtfully. "I do believe you have the maturity to be able to separate our personal and professional relationships, however, so… I suppose we could be something like friends. It wouldn't do for anyone at the school to know that…"

"Oh, no! No, I haven't said a word—nor will I. As far as people I know are concerned, I'm studying right now. Alone. At my house. Except my best friend Meg, but even _she _doesn't know I'm with you."

"Where does she think you are?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes carefully watching her face.

Averting her gaze, she gave a half-shoulder-shrug. "Just out with another friend. I wasn't totally sure what the rules would be for teacher-student… interaction," she said warily. "I thought just in case, it would be better not to say anything."

"I hate for you to have to keep secrets…"

"I don't mind," she assured him, shaking her head. "Not a bit. I enjoy spending time with you; I don't need other people to know about it."

Instead of directly responding, Erik gazed at her, smiling slightly, and said, "All right, what did you want to know?"

"Oh, lots," she said easily. "Let's start off with… have you ever been married?"

The man actually snorted, causing Christine to wonder why that was such an incomprehensible thought. Was he one of those anti-monogamy guys?

"No," he answered, shaking his head when she only quirked an expectant eyebrow.

"How come?" she pried. "Can't be tied down?"

Tilting his head to the side slightly, he said, "I've never had to consider it, why don't we leave it at that?"

"You've never even been close to being married then?"

"No," he responded, shaking his head. "You sound so shocked."

"Well, I am a little. I guess I don't see how you could stay single for so long. You don't _seem _like a player."

Laughing a little, he said, "God, you say the most ridiculous things. I assure you, I am not a 'player.'"

"You probably could be though," she reasoned, almost thinking aloud. "Women like smart men, and… well, actually, they like just about everything else you are, which brings me back to my puzzlement. Oh well, I was just curious."

"Are you really that polite? Assuming you're not blind, you can see this," he returned, for the first time intentionally indicating the mask that he normally pretended wasn't there.

Blinking, Christine said, "Oh, actually I forget about it. I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"At the very least, people tend to find it bizarre. Most people don't run around wearing masks unless they're holding a gun and demanding all your money."

Smiling, Christine shook her head. "It's not that kind of mask at all. Honestly, it's the same color as your face, so it's not that hard to adjust to. I grew up watching Zorro with my dad though, so I've always kind of liked masks."

"You watched Zorro with your dad?" he asked, seeming a little amused.

Nodding vigorously, she said, "My dad loved westerns, but when I was really little my mom would yell at him for letting me watch the violent ones. Zorro was on the Disney Channel; how can you argue with that?"

"Good point," he conceded.

"Yep. I would also remind you that Peter Parker and various other superheroes wore masks. You could be a superhero for all I know," she informed him with mock gravity.

Shaking his head with a little smile, Erik said, "I've really never met anyone who made light of it the way you do."

Shrugging, she said, "Sorry; I've always had a rather sunny disposition. Every glass is half-full as far as I'm concerned."

"No, don't apologize. It's… interesting."

"_Interesante?_" she offered, smiling.

"_Muy interesante_," he stated, nodding. "Now that you've probed my personal life, what about yours?"

"I'm not married," she said with a grave sigh.

"Are you a superhero?"

Widening her eyes, she said, "_How _did you guess?"

Shrugging, he played along. "It's the only thing that makes sense."

"I keep my magic lasso in my bedroom closet."

"What do you know, so do I," Erik remarked ironically.

Smiling and taking a drink of her water, she said, "Okay, what else? You're not married, no serious relationships, you're secretly a superhero… what about your family? I know about your sister, but do your parents live around here?"

Nodding, Erik said, "My father died years ago, but my mother and her husband live on the upper east side."

"Aw, I'm sorry to hear that," Christine said, giving him a sympathetic look.

Erik merely shrugged. "Beyond that, I don't really have a family."

"No aunts, uncles, cousins?"

"I have them, but I don't have relationships with any of them. My mother was one of three daughters, but she kept me away from her family as a child so I never really formed any attachments to them. When I got older, I just didn't really see the point."

Frowning, Christine asked, "Why? Was she not close to her family?"

"_She _was close to her family, she just wasn't close to me," he stated, his tone firm but unemotional.

"Your _mother_?"

Erik nodded, but before she could delve any deeper, he turned the question on her. "What about you? Are you close to your mother?"

"I was close to my father. I mean… I live with my mother, but… we've never been as close as my father and I were. I take it you and your mom don't see a lot of each other?"

"No. It's better that way."

"Why? If you don't mind me asking, that is. Is she close to your sister?"

"She's close to Meredith, yes, but Meredith is beautiful. My mother was a model, her mother before her was a model. Vanity is the family vice, passed down from generation to generation. Aside from me, there is not a single unattractive person in my mother's line in either direction. As far back as we can trace the family lineage, all gorgeous people. The children of everyone else in my family, right down to the babies—beauty is sort of a… given with my family. I was an extremely unpleasant surprise."

By the time he finished explaining, Christine's jaw was slack and she was staring at him, trying to ascertain as to whether or not he was serious. "That's… one of the most ludicrous things I've ever heard…"

Shrugging, he said, "I don't share their values, but to some people beauty is extremely important."

"Not _that_… I mean… well, okay, yeah, that's a little much too, but what I meant was… why would you exclude yourself from that? I mean… not to sound like I'm coming onto you or anything, but you're clearly an attractive person. Even aside from your physical attractiveness, if you put me in a room blind-folded to listen to you and talk to you for an hour, by the end of the hour I would be convinced of that without even having to lay eyes on you. Maybe your mom's confused."

"She's not confused, Christine," he disagreed, shaking his head. "I wear the mask for a reason."

Smiling gently, she said, "Maybe because you were raised around too much vanity? Anyone who spends even a short amount of time to get to know you couldn't possibly care what's beneath the mask. I… I just don't believe that people are that shallow."

"It's not necessarily that people are shallow… well, my mother is shallow. But you would have to see it to understand, which you never will, so… you may go on believing me to be attractive."

"You could have _no _face beneath that mask and I would still find you attractive," she stated implacably. "I mean that platonically, of course. Don't feel awkward or anything."

Chuckling in a somewhat amused manner, he said, "I won't."

"I figured we're two people who are enlightened enough to be able to discuss attractiveness in a detached way," she added. "Just because I find you attractive doesn't mean anything."

"Of course," he replied, mostly to humor her.

"But you are," she concluded. "And I would tell your mother that, too."

"Well, I appreciate your confidence in me," he told her, looking distinctly amused but also a little bit... flattered?

Shaking her head, she said sincerely, "You shouldn't. I'm not doing you any favors by simply being responsive to _your _personality. I mean… what more could a person want? You're obviously very intelligent, you have so many different talents that one career can't sustain you, you're strict but patient, you're willing to go above and beyond the call of duty for someone you barely even know… If I had a son, and he grew up to be even half the man you are, I would be so absurdly proud of him that he would avoid my calls just so he didn't have to listen to me gush over him anymore."

Laughing, Erik shook his head, saying, "I believe you're very easily impressed, Christine."

"And I believe you inherited all of the modesty that your other family members obviously didn't."

Still shaking his head, but gazing at her warmly, he stated, "I believe we should get back to studying."

Sighing in mock disappointment, she said, "See, you're not even my son, and you're tired of my praise."

"Not at all," he replied honestly. "But we have to leave for the movie soon, and we've only practiced your adjectives once."

Rubbing her hands together in delight, she said, "Oh, good, then we don't even have to change the subject. I'll describe you in Spanish."

"If it would please you to do so, by all means," he agreed, inclining his head.

Hesitating, she gazed into his eyes contemplatively. "Um, before I do that though, we need to settle the matter of your eye color. My sheet only has blue, green, brown and black, and your eyes… are not any of those." Leaning a little closer as if being closer might change the color, she shook her head. "They look _gold _to me. Not brown, but gold."

Nodding, Erik said, "They fall under the umbrella of brown. Technically they just didn't receive enough pigment; they passed yellow, but didn't quite make it to brown. You can categorize them as gold if you'd like."

"Fantastic, but I don't know how to say gold," she informed him wryly.

"Ah," he said, nodding. "For male singular, it would be _dorado."_

"_Muchos gracias_," she said with a little nod.

"_De nada_."

Then, glancing down briefly at her notes before beginning, she went on to describe Erik—in Spanish—utilizing physical descriptors: tall, slim man, handsome, black hair, gold eyes. Then she gave him personality descriptors using the words on her list—strict, kind, hard-working, very intelligent, ambitious, likeable, modest, and professional—the last one given with a light-hearted little smile.

"Are you making fun of me?" he asked with narrowed eyes, even though he was clearly not serious.

"Never," she said innocently, smiling at him like an angel.

Shaking his head, he said, "That innocent smile doesn't fool me. Since you called me _bonito_, I would also like to give you an added note in case your teacher didn't—_bonito and bonita _are obviously the masculine and feminine variations of beautiful, but it can be used to say beautiful for people _and _things. If you're only talking about people, you can say _guapo _or_ guapa_, those only refer to a person."

Nodding her head, she grabbed a pen and jotted that tidbit down in her notebook. "Good to know. So if I'm saying, 'Meg, you're beautiful,' I would use _guapa_, but if I'm saying, 'Meg, that skirt is beautiful_,_' I should be using _bonita_."

"Yes, because skirt in Spanish is _falda_, which is feminine. However, if you were saying, 'That elephant is beautiful' it would be _elephant_ which is masculine, so then you would use _bonit_o_._"

Grinning, Christine said, "Next time I go to the zoo, I will make sure to point out the _bonito elephantes_. Wouldn't want them to feel unattractive, now would we?"

Raising his visible eyebrow, he said, "Well, if it's plural then you would have to say…?"

Losing her smile and scrunching up her nose, she said, "I meant the _bonitos elephantes._ Dammit, I always forget to pluralize my adjectives. It seems so unnatural."

"Should we go over that again?" he asked, sifting through the notes to find what she had written down for pluralizing adjectives.

Lighting her phone up to look at the time, she shook her head. "No, I don't think so. We should probably get the bill, the movie's starting soon."

"Are you sure? We could go over it once more and still be on time for the movie."

"I'm positive," she assured him. "Thank you _so _much for your help on this. You've really been unbelievably helpful."

Nodding once, Erik spotted the waiter and raised his hand slightly to get his attention.

Before the waiter could approach the table, Christine put on the most assertive look she could muster and said, "_I'm _paying for this dinner. You paid for the last one, and you've just spent almost two hours tutoring me on a subject you don't even get paid to teach."

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid I'm terribly old-fashioned when it comes to footing the bill. I will pay."

"No," she insisted firmly, pulling her little pink and beige wallet out of her purse. "I'm serious, Erik. It's only fair."

"Christine, I would not be able to _sleep _tonight if I allowed you to pay for my dinner."

"You took like six bites. You didn't even like it."

"I did like it," he disagreed. "I've never had much of an appetite, it isn't the food."

Smiling up at the waiter, she said, "I'll take the bill, please."

Before the waiter could hand her the bill, Erik handed him a credit card. "_I'm _paying; take the card."

Not even _considering _ignoring the unbending authority in Erik's tone, the waiter immediately retrieved the card and then promptly ran away from the table.

Glaring at Erik across the table, Christine said, "That was not fair. You just used your teacher voice on him; I didn't stand a chance."

Shrugging, Erik said, "I'm a teacher, I'm entitled to do that."

"Yes, but we agreed to keep our roles separate," she reminded him.

"I didn't use my teacher voice on _you_."

"You can't keep _paying _for me, though. In the future if we have dinner again, let's get separate checks. That way you don't have to pay for me, but you don't have to feel like I've somehow emasculated you by buying _you _dinner."

Looking offended, Erik said, "I never said you _emasculated _me."

Raising her eyebrows, she crossed her arms—unintentionally pushing her displayed breasts together—and said, "What do you call it?"

Since her action drew attention right to her chest, that's where Erik's gaze fell and he seemed to forget momentarily what they were talking about.

Biting back a grin, Christine thought, _Men._

Still, she couldn't lie and say she wasn't pleased he noticed.

Clearing his throat, Erik pulled his eyes to her face and he gave her a scowl that might have intimidated her if he hadn't been ogling her a few seconds earlier. "I'm not discussing this with you. You're a college student struggling to pay tuition; I am far from it. You will not spend a dime on me, and we are not going to get separate checks. Good God, I am not some penny-pinching college boy."

Chuckling a little to herself, Christine said, "You are _terrible _at separating our roles already. Right now, at this table, I am not some poor college student, I am simply your friend. Do you insist on paying for Nadir's dinner?"

"Actually, yes," Erik stated. "The only time I ever allow anyone to pay for me is if it's my birthday—Meredith always insists on taking me to dinner for my birthday, and she finds it highly offensive if I try to pay."

"Well, _yeah_," Christine said, raising her eyebrows as if to add, 'duh.'

The waiter came back to the table with a little black credit card folder and put it down in front of Erik.

Erik opened the book, retrieved his card, and quickly jotted down his signature. Then he handed it back to the waiter with a nod.

"You two have a nice evening," the waiter said before he walked away.

"At least let me get the tip," Christine said, opening up her wallet.

Smiling slightly, he said, "All right."

Feeling a little bit satisfied, she opened her wallet to pull out some money when suddenly she heard someone behind her call out her name.

Frowning, she stopped looking through her wallet and turned to peer over her shoulder. No one was there, so started to turn back to the table, thinking she must just be hearing things, when suddenly she heard her name again, farther behind her and she fully rotated in her chair, trying to find the unfamiliar voice of the person calling her name.

There was still nothing, and she frowned, slowly turning back toward the table again—but then it was there, right beside her, as if someone sitting at the table next to them was trying to get her attention, only… the table was empty.

Feeling more than a little confused, Christine turned her extremely confused gaze on Erik. "Did you hear…?"

Erik was smiling a little as he stood up, shoving her notebook and binder under his arm and saying, "Shall we leave?"

Shrugging off the voices as lack of sleep, she said, "Yeah, just let me get the… tip."

Frowning, she saw a twenty dollar bill sitting in the middle of the table.

"Erik, why is there money on the table?"

From somewhere behind her, she heard his response: "I don't know, Christine."

Eyes widening, she stared at his unmoving mouth as she very distinctly heard his voice behind her.

"How… are you doing that?"

"Ventriloquism," he said easily. "Come on, we're going to be late to the movie."

Giving the money on the table a dirty look, she pushed back her chair and stood up. "You can throw your voice, too? You resorted to ventriloquism to distract me from leaving a tip?"

"What can I say? I'm diabolical," he told her gravely.

"You're stubborn—_terco!_"

"_Muy terco_," he agreed unapologetically.

"_I'm _paying my own way into that movie," she stated immovably. "If you trick me and pay for it, I'm waiting outside of the theater until it's over and you can watch it by yourself."

Smiling down at her in a slightly condescending manner, he said, "Okay, I'll let you pay your own way into the movie."

"How kind of you," she deadpanned.

"Well, you said I was kind, I just figured I should do _something _to live up to the description."

Shaking her head, she muttered, "Obstinate man."

"That's _obstinado_, if you please. Is it really so irksome that I insist on being a gentleman? Perhaps I'm dating myself here, but I don't subscribe to the more modern male mindset of letting a woman do everything and sitting back like a disabled cow."

"Even drunk, high and disoriented no one would describe you as a 'disabled cow,'" she said, trying to bite back her amusement. "And those rules only apply if you're dating someone; as long as we're only friends, you are in no way responsible—be it old-fashioned chivalry or otherwise—for buying me anything."

"So, even though I want to treat you—as I would any other female friend—with what I consider respect, I shouldn't? I am denied this right simply because I don't expect to sleep with you? Is expectation of sex the only reason a man is allowed to do something like that for a woman?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but snapped it shut when she realized she wasn't sure how to. He made a valid point; if to Erik's thinking he was being respectful and treating her like a lady, then she was denying him the right to treat her respectfully because they weren't going to end up in bed together, regardless of how the 'outing' went.

And… that did not, in fact, make a lot of sense.

Brow furrowing, she gave him a suspicious sideways glance. "Are you tricking me again?"

"I'm asking a valid question. It doesn't make sense to me. Perhaps if I couldn't afford to buy you dinner or a movie ticket, I would understand your hesitation to allow it, but considering that's obviously not the case, I don't see what the big deal is. Am I really not allowed to pay for an eleven dollar movie ticket even if I want to? Even though it would make me _happier _to buy you a ticket than to stand back and watch you buy your own?"

Sighing in defeat, she said, "I can't out argue you, Erik. You're pulling the teacher advantage again."

"That's not a teacher advantage, it's simply an advantage of being sensible," he informed her with a smile.

"Fine," she said, lightly shrugging. "I guess if it would make you happy… I just don't want you to feel like…"

"Like I'm going to get something out of it?" he suggested, smiling wryly.

Christine's eyes widened in reflexive horror and she said, "No! No, no, nothing like that. It's not that I don't trust your intentions, not at all, it's just usually guys I go out—" Cutting herself off, she felt her face warming. "I mean… most guys would really prefer for the girl to pay for herself, but they're just being nice. I don't… like when guys feel like they have to do me any favors."

"Because when you allow someone to do you a favor, you're indebted to them," he stated easily. "You think if you go out with someone and they pay for you, they expect to be 'paid back' in a different type of currency."

It wasn't a question, but she still felt the need to answer. "I actually went out with a guy once—once, being the most important word here—who told me exactly that in no uncertain terms."

"So it _is _my motivation that you call into question then?"

"No! Not you, it's just… instinct, I guess. Ever since that one guy gave me such a perspective, I've just felt more comfortable paying for myself. But not you, I… I _do not _have any suspicions about your motivations." Shaking her head, she smiled ironically and said, "You've won the argument, can you just stop psychoanalyzing me now?"

"I get to buy your ticket?"

"You can buy me three if it'll really make you happy."

Giving her a charming little smile, he said, "Then we can let the topic rest for now."

Christine shook her head, trying to give him a look of irritation as they headed toward the theater, but she found herself unable to come off as stern when his smug look was so damn adorable.

-o-

**A/N:** Reviews = love! :)


	8. Open Mouth, Insert Foot

**A/N:** Bonjour! Thanks go out to my reviewers: **broadwaygirl818, ladyphan17, magicfingerrs, Steelfeathers, Epic ****Insanity, ****DaFatGnome, PHLover213, Tina 95, PhantomsAreDropDeadSexy**, and** Mercy-Chan; **I appreciate the feedback! And look how quickly I got this up! :) Days off + not doing homework = awesome.

As far as Erik and Christine's relationship, I've always imagined them having an easy rapport, a sort of instant draw to one another… I suppose it's the romantic in me, lol, but it's also just how I imagined them. Additionally, since Christine is really not fighting her attraction to Erik _at all_ (as opposed to the original story, where things like his insanity—I mean that as lovingly as possible—and societal expectations… well, and the handsome suitor, but my Christine is less shallow… anyway, without the obstacles that made admitting feelings for a murderous, masked, reclusive genius difficult) I found their relationship developing rather easily. There is Erik's position to consider, but they haven't actually crossed any lines as of yet. Anyway, all of that will get resolved eventually. :)

Thank you all for reading and reviewing! :)

**ladyphan17****:** I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! Lol, "disabled cows" are indeed unsexy! I dated a disabled cow for a long time; I can't see Erik being able to abide them :)

* * *

-o-

**_Chapter Eight_**

* * *

The weekend flew by and before Christine knew it, Monday was there again.

The good news was, she got to go to music theory, and she actually felt fairly confident about the reflection she had spent most of Sunday night researching so that when she handed in her paper and accompanying basic composition Monday morning Erik would see that she was absolutely carrying her weight and expecting no favors.

Since the first class, she had been thoroughly pulled into Erik's lectures, but that day she felt even more intensely connected to every word out of his mouth. When he demonstrated a composition on the piano, she could almost _feel _the music in her soul, and just keeping her eyes open seemed to be a struggle.

When that man's fingers hit the ivory keys, he made magic—there was no other way to describe it.

Christine was quite a good piano player herself, but she never felt that kind of power listening to the music _she _produced. Could you _learn _to play like that, or was it just the mysterious allure of Erik himself?

After class, Christine had to go to work, which was rather unfortunate. Her boss was unpleasant until he left, and there was a table that just would _not _leave until a half hour _after _the restaurant had been closed. Typically Christine didn't get out until late anyway, but that extra half hour made her feel even more acutely nervous. She wasn't stupid, she understood that walking the streets by herself late at night was _not _the safest idea in the world. For all that she liked the city and understood many of the rules, she also understood that a single defenseless woman walking as far as she did unaccompanied was a really good way to end up mugged, raped, murdered, and tossed into a dumpster.

Fortunately, as she did every other evening that she felt like a boogeyman was surely following her with a knife, she made it home all in one piece without incident.

Tuesday flew by; she had class and then she went over to Meg's for a "home cooked" dinner of Hamburger Helper, then she made her way home to finish all of her homework for the following day.

Wednesday she got to see Erik again—he hadn't even talked to her after class on Monday, which made her vaguely grumpy—and it was only one day before her first choir practice.

Before class Meg called her and asked if she wanted to go catch a movie with her later. After Christine said okay, Meg added, "Your lover will be there."

"Who?" Christine asked, frowning in confusion.

"Raoul! I told you his friend Conor invited me to the movie; Christine, you pay _no _attention to these details."

"Wait, is this like a double date?" Christine demanded.

"No, not at all. I mean, well, sort of. I don't know. Do we have to label? Anyway, you were practically pulling your hair out over what to wear out with the guy the other night, I figured you'd be cool with it. Did the date go awry or something?"

"No," Christine murmured. "It's fine."

"Are you sure? 'Cause Conor's probably a tool, I could easily blow him off and we could stay in and watch Center Stage again."

"Oh, as much as I would… just _love _to watch Center Stage for the 38th time, I would sure hate to disappoint Conor and Raoul."

"Great," Meg said brightly. "We're going to a burger joint to hang out for a bit, so I told them we'd meet them at 5:30, and then the movie starts at like 7."

"Sounds like a plan," Christine said.

And so, her evening plans were set. The omission to Meg still bothered her, particularly since they were all going to be hanging out, and Meg was sure to notice that she wasn't behaving in the manner that an infatuated female should behave around the guy she likes.

Since Erik wouldn't be there, Christine was not going to be acting in an infatuate manner around the guy she liked.

Rolling her eyes at her own stupidity for wanting the one guy she couldn't actually pursue, Christine forced herself to stop thinking about it.

Wednesday's class went by in a similar fashion: Erik lecturing and firing off questions at random people—Christine included—to get their on-the-spot answers, and at the end of the class as he let everyone go he said he would hand back the papers he had graded from Monday, and then everyone would be free to go.

Christine got hers last, but she didn't mind, as she preferred to approach Erik when the other students were gone. She approached him with a little smile, taking her paper and looking down to see her grade.

Her face fell when she saw that it was a B-.

"I got a B minus?" she questioned reflexively. "I… spent hours researching…"

"The paper was excellent; the composition was weak," Erik replied.

Flipping the paper over to look over the composition, she said, "But… you said a basic composition. I didn't think I had to write a masterpiece."

"I left my comments on the paper," he told her. "It was decent, but I know you could do better. Don't worry about it, Christine; one B isn't going to destroy your grade or anything."

"But…" Figuring that there was no point arguing, she nodded her head and said, "Okay, I'll do better next time."

"I did give a little demonstration in class as to the level of composition I was looking for. If you'd like, I can show you again. We could do a little practice if you don't have to go to work."

Shaking her head, she said, "I can't, I have to get some homework done before tonight, but thanks anyway. It's fine. Like you said, one B isn't the end of the world."

Smiling slightly, he said, "Your mouth is saying it's fine, but your face seems to disagree."

Forcing a shrug, she said, "If I earned a B, I got a B."

"Why don't you just play your composition tonight when you go home? Think about the one I played in class and then just think about the differences."

"I can't, we had to sell our piano," she stated, turning around and putting her graded paper into a folder, then sliding her folder and other supplies into her messenger bag.

Frowning, he said, "You had to _sell _your piano?"

Normally she was more private about such things, but getting a low B on a paper she felt she had done really well on had taxed her nerves enough to loosen her tongue. A little impatiently, she said, "My father created a lot of debt before he died, we had to start selling stuff or lose the house altogether." Hoisting her bag on her shoulder, she offered him a half smile and said, "I guess I'll probably see you tomorrow night at chorus."

"All right… have fun."

"Yeah, you too," she returned, giving him a little wave and then walking out of the classroom.

-o-

"I'm sorry, but that movie sucked," Meg stated as they strolled out of the crowded theater into the darkened street.

Christine didn't vocalize her agreement, but she gave Meg a smile to let her know she agreed.

Slinging an arm almost absently around Christine's shoulder, Raoul said, "I'm not going to argue with you on this, Meg. That movie _did _suck."

"I will never get those two hours of my life back," Meg informed him.

"And for that, I am deeply sorry," he assured her. "If it helps, I won't either."

"It won't help. At all. But do you know what _would _help a lot?"

"What's what?" Raoul asked.

"Pinkberry. With strawberries and Fruity Pebbles."

Chuckling, Raoul glanced over at Conor, his tall, dark-haired friend. "What do you say, do we have time for frozen yogurt before we take these ladies home?"

"Why not?" Conor said easily.

Sighing a little to herself, Christine wondered exactly what time it was. It had to be around nine; by the time she got home, she would barely have any time to do homework before she went to bed, and she had a quiz the next day.

"What's wrong?"Raoul asked, noticing her lack of enthusiasm. "Do you not like frozen yogurt?"

"No, I do," she insisted. "Nothing's wrong."

"You have seemed a little off today," Meg remarked. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's nothing, really. You know how anal I am about my grades; I just got sort of a bad grade today and it kind of threw me off."

"Which class?" Meg asked, frowning.

"Music theory."

"You _never _get bad grades. Was there a mistake? What grade did you get?"

"Isn't that the one with the really hard professor?" Raoul asked.

Nodding her head, Christine said, "He just has higher expectations than most; I knew that going in, I just… I hate mediocre grades."

"Want me to beat him up for you?" Meg offered.

"It's not his fault I wrote a shitty composition," Christine stated, sighing. "It just sucks. I can't even practice unless I'm at school because we got rid of our piano."

"Well, if you still use it, why'd you get rid of it?" Raoul asked, frowning at the lack of logic in such an action.

For some reason, it still bothered Christine to share things like that with Raoul, so instead of the truth, she said, "My mom just didn't want it taking up space anymore, she didn't think I ever really played it much since my dad died. Honestly, I didn't, but with my music class and now chorus practice… it would have been nice to have."

"Well, we have a piano, feel free to come over and practice anytime you'd like," Raoul offered.

Smiling slightly, Christine glanced up at him and said, "Thank you Raoul, that's very kind. I can practice at school, I'm just… it's so early in the semester, and my school and work schedule are already teaming up to frazzle the hell out of me. Everything will be fine, I just have to find my balance."

Shaking her head, Meg said, "Honestly, I don't know _how _you balance five classes and working five nights a week. If I were you, I'd crack."

"Well, this week in particular I only have four nights, so hopefully I'll at least have a little bit of time to myself over the weekend."

"You really should," Raoul agreed. "It's ridiculous how busy you are all the time. I mean, _I _understand why you canceled on me and everything, but from _your _perspective… it seems really stressful."

Frowning as she looked over at Raoul, Meg demanded, "Canceling on you? Christine scrapped an evening of studying to go to a movie with you."

Raising his eyebrows, Raoul said, "You're here, too, she isn't just hanging out with me. I'm just saying she should get to hang out with us sometimes."

Eyes widening slightly, Christine interrupted before he could respond. "Let's not talk about this anymore, okay?"

Realization dawned on Meg's face and she broke free of Conor's embrace, walking over and looping her arm through Christine's, pulling her away from Raoul and walking slightly ahead of the boys so she could whisper, "Hmm, if you canceled on Raoul, I wonder who you were _really _dressing to impress."

"I wasn't," Christine said, trying to deny it.

"Liar. We'll discuss this later," Meg stated imperially. "Right now, I want some Pinkberry."

-o-

Naturally, Meg ended up getting the real story of Christine's weekend plans, but instead of teasing Christine, she seemed to be more pensive about the situation. When Christine tried to get Meg's input, Meg shook her head and refused to share.

The following day was chorus practice and Christine got to sing with others for the first time. Erik was there, and she enjoyed just having him present to listen to her sing, even if she was singing with other people. Of course, since it was the first practice she attended, she was completely lost and didn't really know what they were singing, but she caught on quickly enough.

While Erik had assured her that it was okay if she could only make it on Thursday evenings, Gail made it perfectly clear during the chorus rehearsal that students needed to rehearse _twice _a week—and then she informed Christine that she had already received her request to schedule practice with the her assistant on a separate night for two hours each week, and she was allowed to do that instead of attending on Tuesdays. If they were having a concert, however, she expected Christine to make sure she came to the rehearsal with _everyone _on Tuesday _and _Thursday—aside from concert rehearsals, however, Christine's private rehearsals would suffice.

Since Christine had made no such request, she was reasonably puzzled for a moment. Erik had offered to help her, certainly, but he hadn't mentioned it was required.

By the time Christine left, she felt a little bit more stressed out. How was she ever going to find time to do all of the things on her plate? As if trying to maintain good grades and working so much wasn't hard enough, twice-weekly chorus rehearsals? Had she really been thinking clearly when she had agreed to that?

Erik walked out right behind her, and he easily caught up to her. "Don't be overwhelmed," he said, practically reading her mind.

"Just _thinking _about all I have to do is overwhelming me, _that's _how overwhelmed I am."

"You're going to be fine," he promised her. "You'll see."

"Am I going to be prepared only practicing once a week?"

"I would prefer for you to practice more than once a week," Erik stated. "Two to three times a week would be ideal. It's true your voice is good, but you need proper training to reach your full potential."

Shaking her head, she said, "I just don't know how I'm going to do it."

"Perhaps you should consider coming to practice with me one evening this weekend. If you're not comfortable coming to my apartment, we can make other arrangements."

"No, I'm not uncomfortable with the idea at all," she assured him. "I just… my time constraints… I'll make time though. Do you have any preferences as to when?"

"Not particularly," he replied.

"Well, I'm off Saturday night, would that work for you?"

"Yes. If you're not caught up on homework, bring that, too, and we'll get that out of the way. I believe I'm assigning rather simple homework for tomorrow, so that shouldn't take up too much of your time. Do you have any practice singing arias?"

"No," Christine stated, raising her eyebrows. "I think you're overestimating my voice; I can hit high notes, but not…"

"You will," he answered, not even letting her finish. "Your voice is capable, you just have to develop it. I think for our private lessons—when we're not working on the chorus songs—I would like to train you to sing an aria. Perhaps… the Queen of the Night aria from Mozart's The Magic Flute. I think that would suit your voice very nicely."

"I'm… not even sure what that entails."

"I'll play it for you when you come to your lesson. We could perhaps play a little Don Giovanni, too. We'll see. I have plenty of ideas."

"I'm not familiar with it…"

Raising his eyebrows, he said, "Don Giovanni? Oh, I actually intend on going to see it next month. Perhaps it could be a little field trip of sorts… would you like to see it performed?"

Her eyebrows shot up that time. "Me? Really? Aren't tickets expensive though?"

"Not really," he said untruthfully. "At any rate, I didn't have to buy mine. The young woman playing the part of Donna Elvira is a former pupil of mine; I gave her voice lessons while I was pursuing my doctorate and she was finishing her bachelor's at Juilliard. Naturally, since I helped train her voice, she wanted me to come watch her perform."

"You gave her voice lessons and now she's performing in an opera?"

"I told you I liked my students to be serious."

Raising an eyebrow, she said, "I think you also lied to me; I distinctly remember you telling me that you had never heard a talent as pure and raw as mine."

"That wasn't a lie," he informed her. "Luciana is a success because she was determined and she was willing to work very hard under very demanding instructors to train her voice to be as beautiful as it is now. _You _have the extraordinary luck of being _born _with a pure instrument, and you lack the dedication to even develop it."

There was mistaking his irritation at that last part, and Christine bristled a bit. "We've been over this a million times, Erik. Poor college students don't have the time to dedicate—"

"There is always time, Christine, it is only a matter of how you choose to spend it."

"Well, silly me, I have to spend it working."

"I maintain that you need a different job that takes up less of your time."

Vaguely irritated by how easy he made it sound—like she was simply choosing to struggle—she said, "Hey, _you _find me a part-time job that's going to give good pay to a student with a limited schedule and no skill and I will gladly take it."

It had been said in an offhand manner, but Erik regarded her with interest. "Really? You wouldn't think that I'm being overly involved in your life if I were to procure you a better job?"

For a moment, Christine blanked. "I wasn't… serious. It's not _really _your responsibility to find me a job, obviously, I was… being petulant because you make me feel guilty for not pursuing music."

Shrugging, he said, "I won't apologize for that; I sincerely believe you should be developing your musical abilities, not packing sandwiches. You didn't answer me. Would you really be open to a new job if I could acquire one for you?"

"Well, of course I would, but like I said, I don't _really _expect you to do that. You take me so literally sometimes."

Nodding once, Erik appeared to have stopped listening to her, his mind off in some other place. "I will try to have an alternate plan in place by Saturday."

"You _really _don't have to do that," she insisted, almost feeling guilty that she had said anything.

"Nothing would please me more than to see you doing something you enjoy, Christine."

The vaguely tender sound of his voice when he murmured that surprised her a little and she gazed at him probingly, feeling her face heat up in pleasure just a little bit.

As if there had never been more than professional interest in his tone, Erik easily went on, "Besides, if you do choose to pursue music, I would like the time to work more closely with you. Since you're only now beginning to take your talent serious, you do have some catching up to do."

Instead of really giving him a response, Christine merely nodded, her own girlish mind caught up more with why he cared about her doing anything she enjoyed than anything else…

-o-

When Erik said that he would have an alternate plan ready for Christine by Saturday, she didn't realize how quickly the man really could move mountains. As if procuring a really good job for a really unsuitable candidate was child's play, by the time Christine left the classroom with Erik on Friday, he was asking her if she would be able to give her other job her resignation.

Smiling slightly, she said, "I don't think you really have to formally resign from a minimum wage hostess gig. If I get a better job, I'll give the boss some notice and then leave."

"Well, have you given your notice yet then?"

"Of course not," she answered, raising her eyebrows. "Generally a person in need of funds doesn't quit one job until they have a new one."

"I told you I would have an alternate plan for you by tomorrow; didn't you believe me?"

"And what's this alternate plan of yours?"

"As it happens, there is a restaurant in my building called Cellar, it's the basement level, but it's a really nice restaurant and I spoke with the owner; he has agreed to give you a part-time position so you will have more time to devote to school and music."

"A position at a nice restaurant? Doing what? He hasn't even met me! And I already work in a restaurant, why switch restaurants?"

"Because you will not be doing menial labor at Cellar," he said with mild disdain. "Also, the position is part-time. Instead of five nights a week, you will only be expected to work three, and only Friday, Saturday and Sunday night so you will have your week nights free to devote to music and your school work. With your Tuesday evenings freed up, you will be able to attend both rehearsals, although if you would like to meet an additional night a week to work with me privately, I would be very much amenable to that idea."

Staring at him, she shook her head. "I don't know what to say… well, actually… while it would be amazing to have my weeknights free, I can't live off of three nights a week."

"The pay is better," he stated. "You will also be paid under the table. The hours are 4 to 10 Friday and Saturday night, and 4 to 9 on Sunday."

"There's no way I can live off of that," she said a little apologetically, feeling bad that he went to the trouble for her when she couldn't even take the job.

"I haven't even told you the pay yet," he rationalized.

"I know, but there's just no way 17 hours a week—"

"For your services, you will get 200 dollars a week, and since you won't be receiving a standard paycheck, the money is yours to keep. I already did a rough guess based on the hours you work at the restaurant, and after taxes there's no way you make more than that."

Eyes widening, she said, "They're going to pay me 200 dollars for 17 hours a work?"

Nodding, he said, "And you get as many breaks as you'd like."

"That's over $11 an hour. Is it a hostessing position?"

"No," he answered. "As I mentioned, Cellar is a nice restaurant and to add to the ambiance they were interested in having someone come in specifically to play the grand piano on weekends. If you're interested in the position, you'll be playing there on weekends."

"They want to pay me to play the piano?" she asked incredulously, unable to believe that she was being offered the opportunity to do something she liked and get paid for it.

"Sounds better than hostessing, doesn't it?"

"A lot better," she said, still trying to wrap her head around it. "But they've never even heard me play. They have no idea if I'm even any good."

Shrugging, he said easily, "He trusts my judgment. You may start next Friday night if you're available."

"Seriously? Oh my gosh… that's a week from tonight! I haven't told my boss I was even thinking of leaving… I suppose I could stop by tonight before I go out and let him know that Thursday is the last night I'm available to work. He has me on Friday night though, so he won't be very happy."

Assuring her that it wasn't an important job anyway, Erik suggested that she do just that so that she would have more time to study sooner rather than later. Unfortunately, they were nearing the end of the hallway they could both walk without either of them going out of their way, so their steps slowed to a stop.

"Well, thank you so much for this opportunity, Erik."

Inclining his head, he said, "It's no more than you deserve. I will see you tomorrow for a singing lesson?"

"Absolutely," she promised.

Nodding, his lips curved up slightly and he said, "Have fun tonight. Be safe."

"Tonight? Oh, my friend Meg generally drags me out to a club or somewhere stupid on Friday nights, so I won't be alone or anything, I'm sure we'll be fine. Thanks though." Then, an incredibly impulsive afterthought escaped her lips. "Hey, we're going to be at Majesté; if you find yourself out and about, maybe you could swing by. I'm sure Meg would love to meet you."

He looked a little stunned, and frankly, so was she. Her own innate desire to see him had overridden common sense and as she reflected on what an _awful _idea it had been to even offhandedly invite _Erik _to _Raoul's brother's _night club, she wished she could swallow the words back down.

Then again, Erik didn't really seem like the type to go out every weekend and get drunk. Like her, he would probably prefer to curl up at home with a good book, movie or even music, maybe drink a glass of wine. If he went out, it would be to dinner and perhaps some cultural venue—an art gallery or an opera, a foreign film or even a Broadway musical.

God, _why _did he have to be her teacher? The man was perfect.

Offering her a slight smile, he said, "I'm sure if I find myself in the area, I'll swing by."

Trying not to let her relief show on her face, she could tell by his tone that he was _not _going to be showing up. For a moment, she was certain she could actually _feel _the relief vibrating through her… then she realized that it was her _phone _vibrating, not relief.

Pulling her phone out of her pocket and glancing at the screen, she saw "Scarecrow" flashing across it. The man did not get subtle signs.

Offering Erik a smile, she gave him a little wave and then she went off in her own direction, answering her phone and putting it to her ear. "Hello, Raoul."

"Hey, you knew it was me," he said lightly. "You must be psychic."

"Ah, the wonders of caller ID," she said, her tone lightly sardonic.

Ignoring her tone, he said, "Did you and Meg decide if you're coming out tonight?"

"Yeah, we'll definitely be there. Meg's avoiding her ex at the place we usually go anyway, so I'm pretty positive we'll be at Majesté."

"Great. My brother Philippe will actually be there tonight, I don't think you've seen him since you were little."

"Oh, agreed, I totally haven't," she agreed enthusiastically, although she couldn't care less. "Oh man, Raoul, I'm totally about to walk through a dead zone right now and I usually lose my calls. Mind if I call you later?"

There was a brief hesitation in which she assumed he realized he was being brushed off, but instead of getting aggravated, he merely said, "Sure, I'll talk to you later."

"Bye," she said brightly, then she hung up her phone, stashing it back into her pocket and heading for the staircase. A vague feeling of awareness tingled about her neck, causing the fine hairs on her neck to rise up, and she stopped at the top of the staircase, turning around to check behind her.

Scowling, she could see that no one was there, but she _felt _like someone was.

Shaking off her ridiculous paranoia, she grabbed onto the rail and quickly made her way down the stairs.

-o-

**A/N:** Reviews will earn Erik's love and devotion… at least, that's what I heard. ;)


	9. The Tin Man

**A/N:** Hey guys! So, let me begin by saying thank you for your feedback! Much appreciated, as always. :)

Also, it's been brought to my attention that I overgeneralized in the beginning of my story, so let me clarify one thing. I imagine Emmy Rossum as my Christine in terms of how she looks (the physical description of Christine can be fuzzy-is she blonde? does she have blue eyes? is she brunette? does she have brown eyes?-because there have been so many Christines. It was totally an oversight of my part-I meant her characterization physically as well as her openness to Erik, but NOT her voice. Many Christines are half afraid of him (and sometimes, their own shadow), and I was only thinking of the people who were inevitably going to read the first two chapters and then send me a scathing review informing me that Christine likes Erik too much, in the story she was more cautious, yada yada yada. I was attempting to avoid having to say fifty million times, "THIS IS A MODERN RETELLING, MODERN GIRLS ARE NOT SO EASILY COWED, WILL YOU PLEASE SHUT UP?" As... it isn't polite. :) Stupidly NEVER thought of the voice issue. (I know, duh. I can't even believe I did that.) Anyway, Christine's voice in my story is as Christine is described in the original stories that I liked-vocally gifted. Emmy Rossum does have a nice voice, sure, but... it's really not up to the standard I would have thought the real Erik(s) would have had. :)

**Broken-Vow:** In response to Erik's music selection, yes, he does intend to knock her socks off with, "Hey, I'm going to teach you to hit this really impossible note in this really difficult aria in a language you don't even understand." Lol, because he's just that diabolical. (See scene in the next chapter, when they finally have their first voice lesson.) However, he does not expect her to nail it on her first try-or even in the near future. Erik's overall goal is to get Christine to switch her major/career path and train her voice in earnest. He doesn't expect her to be able to sing the Queen of the Night aria right now, but by the time he's finished tutoring her, he expects her to be able to. Since you obviously know how difficult that is—and up till now, Christine does not—you know that's no small feat. That being said, this is Erik we're talking about, and I imagine him to be highly driven in terms of music. As far as her being a natural, I don't mean that she could naturally sing the aria in this chapter, and I'm mostly taking the "Christine has a pure instrument, oohh, aahh" thing from the original Phantom plots, but I also tend to think some people must be born with some kind of superior potential; I watched a video of a 14-year-old singing the Queen of the Night aria and was duly blown away. I also picked The Magic Flute because I saw that Juilliard was doing a performance of it, and I'm going to bring Julliard into the plot later. Anyway, thanks for your input! :)

* * *

-o-

* * *

"Why are you making me do this? Have I not been a good friend to you over the years?"

Giving his friend a rather impatient look, Erik said, "I couldn't just show up on my own, it would look like…"

"Like you're stalking the young woman?" Nadir suggested, eyebrows rising. "Is that not precisely what you're doing?"

"No, of course not," Erik said dismissively as he glanced down at his untouched drink.

Nadir sighed, glancing around him at the crowd of people, many of them younger, but some of them trendy professionals, sitting at the bar and drinking as they talked with their friends.

"Majesté is a stupid name for a bar," Erik murmured, tilting his face away again as the woman next to him noticed his mask and began to peer at him rather rudely.

Leaning against the bar and looking at his friend, Nadir raised one black expectant eyebrow at his friend. "Tell me why I am here, my friend. Stalking protégés is not really a habit you've developed, is it?"

"Not all of them," Erik stated. "And I'm not stalking her. She invited me to come if I was out."

"And naturally being the party animal that you are, you were out and about? Is that why you had to drag me here as a cover?"

"You're not my cover. Can't I buy a friend a drink?"

"You could, of course, if I liked to drink. Since you know I do not, I am not foolish enough to believe that's why I'm here, nor are you foolish enough to think I would believe that. What are you doing, Erik?"

Not particularly caring for the seriousness of Nadir's inquiry, Erik shifted his gaze to his glass, picking it up and tilting it back for a taste of the bitter liquid. Grimacing, he sat the glass back down and said, "I'll never understand why people drink."

"I can only assume it is because everyone has a friend like you," Nadir said dryly.

Smiling slightly, Erik said, "Most people aren't so lucky."

Snorting, Nadir said, "Yes, I'm sure it is _luck_."

Deciding it was time to change the subject, Erik asked, "Did you enjoy California?"

"Strangely enough, it was hot. It was nice, I suppose, running everything. The only way I am allowed to call any shots is when your obstinate presence is absent."

"I'm called that a lot lately," Erik remarked.

"Well, it is because you are obstinate. Did you read my report today on the project?"

Shaking his head, Erik said, "No, I didn't get around to it."

"How unlike you. What were you doing that was so important?"

Instead of answering him, Erik merely slanted his friend a sideways glance. "Well, since you're here now, why don't you tell me how it went."

In a droll tone, Nadir said, "Production is now ahead and costs are well below budget; if you want details, you may read them in the report that I spent hours preparing for you."

Sighing, Erik said, "I'll do it tomorrow, Nadir. You're such an old woman sometimes."

-o-

Christine had finished her second martini before Raoul's hand got a little brave and came to rest on her thigh.

Smiling slightly as she drained the rest of her glass, she pointedly looked down at his hand.

Unfortunately, he wasn't paying a lick of attention to her—was instead laughing at something one of his friends across the table said—so he didn't even catch her gesture. Giving an audible sigh, she moved her leg so that it was completely pressed against the other, hoping it would dislodge his hand from her bare thigh, but his hand just floated with it, and suddenly his hand was resting so that one thigh was covered by his hand, and his finger tips were lightly brushing her other one, also.

Unfortunately _that _caught his attention, as it would have had to feel like Christine _intentionally _spilled his hand into her lap.

Turning an affectionate smile on Christine, Raoul's finger lightly curved downward, his fingers wrapping around and caressing the inside of her thigh, then his other hand came up to her face, gently running the back of his fingers down her jaw line.

Feigning coyness, Christine offered a light smile but turned her face away, shifting her legs again in another attempt to get him to stop touching her. It wasn't that he made her necessarily uncomfortable, she just didn't want him getting any ideas of trying anything further.

Chuckling, Raoul murmured affectionately, "Little minx. Philippe said you're as charming as he remembered you."

"I was awkward when he met me before, never charming. Perhaps he meant it as a subtle insult," she joked.

"My family always liked you," Raoul remarked. "Do you remember my mother sending you flowers on the opening night of The Wizard of Oz? You were so excited, no one had ever given you flowers before."

Smiling at the memory, Christine said, "Yeah, that was so nice. I'll never forget how excited I was to get flowers like a real leading lady."

"When is your first chorus concert? I'll send you flowers and make you feel like a leading lady again."

Unable to censor her reaction, her eyes widened at the mere _thought _of getting flowers from Raoul in front of Erik and before she could even think about it, she said, "No!"

Looking a little offended, Raoul frowned.

Offering a smile to take the sting out of her vehement objection to his kind gesture, she said, "I'm not the leading lady this time, I'm only one voice among many. Flowers are completely unnecessary."

His frown eased, but she could tell he didn't completely believe all that vehemence was just because she wasn't the leading lady.

Before he pressed anymore, she indicated her empty glass and said, "Can you let me out? I have to use the restroom."

"Want me to grab you another one while you're gone?" he offered.

"No, I'm okay," she said, glancing over at Meg to summon her, but Meg wasn't paying attention, she was smiling and relaxing against Conor. Killing that idea, Christine scooted out of the booth by herself and tugged the ultra mini skirt down, cursing herself for the millionth time for letting Meg dress her.

Stumbling a little over her own feet, Christine started as Raoul's hand shot out to steady her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I do not need assistance to walk to the bathroom, thank you very much," she informed him, pulling out of his grasp and trying to walk in an even line so that she didn't trip over her stupid heels and fall flat on her face. Unfortunately, when she gave Meg leave to dress her, Meg had also chosen the shoes; why her best friend thought she should be able to walk after drinking in high heels was quite beyond Christine.

She made it several feet away from the table and nearly approached the little hall that led to the bathrooms, but she was brought to a dead stop when she spotted the masked man sitting at the bar, facing her and her table. Eyes widening slightly, she turned to look back at her table—checking out his view—and saw that while the high back of the booth protected most of her privacy, he could definitely see them from the shoulders up.

Turning back to face him—the alcohol convincing her that of course he didn't notice that she was checking to see what he could see—she smiled a little and headed over to the bar.

It didn't immediately occur to her—especially in her less observant state—that the man next to him was there with him, and she said, "When I said you should swing by if you were in the area, I thought you would at least say hello."

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "I didn't want to interrupt."

She lost her own smile, wondering what precisely he meant by that. How long had he been sitting there with a perfect view of her table? How much had he seen? Searching her memory, she tried desperately to remember if Raoul had kissed her yet.

"You wouldn't have been interrupting," she said kind of quietly, instinctively moving closer to him and watching what she could see of his face. It was absurd to be watching his reaction to make sure he wasn't mad at her, but that's what she felt like she was doing.

Unfortunately, she couldn't tell. She could see that he wasn't as friendly or warm to her as he usually was, but she wasn't positive about his reason. The alcohol in her veins insisted that if he was angry at her, she needed to fix it, as she liked him very, very much.

"You're not mad at me, are you?" she blurted.

"Why would I be mad?" he asked levelly.

Instead of reassuring her, his cool question only served to make her feel worse.

The man beside Erik peered around him then, offering a very thin smile and saying, "Forgive my very rude friend. I assume you are Christine Daaé? I am Nadir Khan."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, offering a little smile. "It's very nice to meet you."

"Your friend is looking for you," Erik informed Christine, nodding toward her table.

Frowning, Christine turned to look back at her table and she saw Raoul standing there looking quite ridiculous as he frowned worriedly in her direction, a pink martini—that she told him she didn't want—dangling between his fingers.

Although she wanted to shoot Raoul a dirty look for checking on her, she reluctantly stepped back away from Erik, inching toward the bathroom. "I should probably…"

Erik merely nodded.

Feeling soundly scolded—even though she hadn't been at all—Christine made her way back to the bathroom, wondering if Erik thought she was a great big skank. She had such an easy respect for him—and he had certainly proven he deserved such respect—that the thought of him thinking poorly of her was absolutely unbearable. He was her teacher, her voice instructor—he was like a guardian angel! He encouraged her dreams, forced her to prioritize, even helped her get a better job that she would enjoy so she could continue to make the same amount of money while working half the hours and even having more time for music.

He asked her to be dedicated, and she was drinking at a night club while she cuddled with a guy she didn't even like.

What the hell was she doing?

Even though she was having difficulty precisely following her own fuzzy logic, by the time she left the bathroom she decided that she owed Erik an explanation of sorts.

He was standing at the bar holding his wallet when she made her way back to him, and beneath the alcohol's influence, she felt common sense begging her to guard her tongue.

"Are you leaving?" she asked, approaching him on his side of the bar.

Glancing at her, Erik nodded his head. "Yes, I believe we've stayed long enough. Nadir and I both have to work early in the morning, so…"

Since she didn't see Nadir, she guessed he must have either left already or he had stepped away for a moment. That suited her just fine.

"Um… I'm really sorry I didn't notice you here earlier. Have you been here long?"

"Not long. It's perfectly fine, I was coming out for a drink with Nadir tonight anyway, I only stopped by because I hadn't been here before."

His voice sounded so guarded, and she hated it. Although she didn't mean to pout—and remind him of her age—her mouth did sort of form one. It was unclear whether she meant to say so or not, but the words spilled out, "Raoul's just… a friend."

Smiling very slightly—and very falsely—Erik assured her, "Christine, you owe me no explanation as to whom you spend your time with. I'm your teacher, unless it begins to interfere with—"

Not even letting him finish his bullshit line, she rolled her eyes and said, "I don't have dinner with any of my other teachers, Erik."

That shut him up.

Unfortunately, it also shut her up because she hadn't meant to say it.

"That… doesn't matter," she said, attempting to recover. "The point is, I respect you, and when you respect someone you want them to think well of you."

"Why wouldn't I think well of you?" he asked, his tone a little terse.

Biting down on her lip, she glanced down at her incredibly short mini skirt, her sexy top, and the fact that she knew he had been watching her—at least at intervals—sit with Raoul in the booth.

Sighing, he seemed to have watched her own evaluation of herself, and his tone softened very slightly. "You're young, Christine. You don't have to apologize for that. I have no right to… expect any more of you."

"But you can," she said, despairing a little at his words. "I'm not… this girl, not really. I mean, I like to go out with Meg and have fun, but Raoul… and… these clothes… you probably think I'm a whore, and I'm _not_!"

"I don't think you're a whore," he assured her, his gaze very briefly flitting over her appearance. "Your clothing… is age-appropriate."

Fighting a groan, she just closed her eyes, wishing she could rewind the night and either drink one less martini so she could think more clearly, or put on more clothing before she left Meg's apartment.

She wanted so badly to just tell him she wanted him to like her, not to think of her as someone that was too young for her, not to sit quietly in a darkened corner and watch her act her age with a guy she had no genuine feelings for.

She wanted _him _with a certainty she didn't even understand, and she wanted to tell him so.

Luckily, she hadn't had _that _much alcohol. Enough to admit it to herself without denial, sure, but not to him.

"As far as not dining with your other teachers, I did tell you up front that you were under absolutely no pressure to do that, and if I've made you feel uncomfortable at any time—"

"No, you haven't made me feel uncomfortable," she interrupted, not letting him apologize. "Don't you get it, Erik? I don't feel uncomfortable around you. I _like _being around you."

His lips curved up sardonically and he tossed a gaze in the direction of the booth. "It does appear that I am not the only one you _like _being around."

"I don't like him," she said immediately, not even pausing to think about it. "It might look bad, but I swear… my relationship with Raoul is friends only, completely platonic."

Nodding once, he asked benignly, "Do you kiss all of your friends?"

Ugh, Raoul _had _kissed her already. Fighting a grimace, she said, "No…?"

"As I said, Christine, you owe me no explanations."

"I'm sorry, I won't kiss him again," she said, unhappily watching Erik shove his wallet into his back pocket and begin to step around her.

"It's none of my business who you kiss."

"You don't care?" she asked quietly.

She watched his jaw clench and he paused in the act of stepping around her. Those golden orbs of his bore down into hers and for a moment she felt transfixed, completely unable to move. Then his hand was lightly at her waist, moving her away from the bar and into a darker corner against the wall. Her heart accelerated a little, and she wondered if he was going to kiss her. Why was he moving her out of the line of view of her table otherwise?

Her heart squeezed a little bit as she leaned against the wall, looking up at him as he stood so close to her. Instinctively licking her lips, she never broke his gaze.

"I am your teacher," he stated a little more harshly than any of his words before.

"We already agreed to keep that relationship separate from any other relationship," she stated.

His hand moved to rest on the wall beside her head and his face looked strained, as if he desperately wanted to throttle something… maybe her.

"What you are experiencing is a minor infatuation, and it will pass," he stated.

Frowning at his high handed conclusion of her feelings, she said, "And just how do you know what I'm feeling?"

"Do you think I haven't seen it before?" he returned, the visible eyebrow shooting up. "I haven't even _been _a teacher for very long, and already I can see the signs from a mile away. It isn't _real_, it's a phase that will pass for you."

"That's not fair. That's also not what I asked. I didn't ask you to tell me how _I _feel—mostly because _I _know how _I _feel better than you do—I asked _you_."

"Asked me what, Christine? If I have inappropriate feelings that could get me fired for a student?"

Shrinking slightly at his intense tone, she murmured, "You know I would never get you fired. You have to know me better than that."

A sound almost like a growl rumbled in his throat and he said, "It's irrelevant. You are my student and only my student. It's none of my business who you kiss and you don't need to apologize to me. If our friendship is clouding your view of our relationship…" He allowed his words to trail off, as he seemed to want to give a subtle threat to make her back off, but he didn't want to actually have to propose ending their friendship.

Shaking her head at him, she said, "Nice way to dodge my question."

He hesitated ever so slightly, and then he said firmly, "No, I don't care."

That time it was her stomach that felt squeezed, laced together with steel thread until the intensity of her disappointment made her feel physically sick.

"I don't believe that," she said, her voice small.

"Well, you should," he said unkindly. His tone was firm, and he had what she had dubbed the 'teacher voice.'

Instead of arguing with him, she bravely decided to do something else to test her theory that he was just as affected by her as she was by him. Reaching out to him, she lightly rested one of her hands on his shoulder, feeling his entire body go rigid beneath her fingertips, and brought just her index finger up to very lightly trace the edge of his slightly irregularly shaped lips. He stood stock still as she tenderly brushed her finger over the sensitive nerves surrounding his lips, and for a moment he allowed her to explore his face, watching her eyes as they found things she hadn't noticed before—like the tiny scar above his lip and below his perfect nose. Her fingers inched over toward the mask but before he had to stop her, he saw her mentally stop herself, and then her fingers snaked around his neck, toying lightly with the short hairs at the base of his neck and causing gooseflesh to rise on his body. He was almost completely transfixed until he realized that she had snaked her hand around his neck for leverage, and she was pulling her body against his. At the first brush of her body against his, he felt his will power waver; when she was pressed against him, her breasts crushed against his chest, her hips fitted snugly against his he closed his eyes, his senses taking over for the moment. He could feel her breath on the unmasked side of his face, the sweet, delicate inhalation that she took as she leaned in to kiss him.

Before her lips met their mark, he snapped out of it, pulling away from her as if he had been burned.

Gasping a little in surprise, she stumbled forward, having been leaning against him for support.

Erik swallowed, his firm authoritative teacher mindset crushed under the weight of his more deeply hidden insecurities. Awkwardly, he took another step back, saying, "I have to go."

He could see the humiliation on her face—having just opened herself up to him, and promptly being rejected. When the humiliation passed, he watched hurt contort her features briefly.

He hated himself for putting that look on her face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking like it was difficult to even force a whisper from her lips. "I… was out of line, and it won't happen… again. Excuse me," she said, promptly shoving away from the wall and through the wall of people blocking the bar without even saying "excuse me."

Sighing a little at how clumsily he had handled that, he attempted to go after her. "Christine."

Either she didn't hear him, or she was ignoring him, because she kept moving.

"Christine, wait," he said with a bit more volume, shoving his own way through the people. It wasn't hard to catch her; she was in heels, and he was taller than she was. His fingers closed around her wrist and he pulled her back before she could get close enough to their booth for the boy to notice the commotion.

"Christine…"

"What?" she whispered furiously, turning to face him with shining eyes. The sight of tears in her eyes made him feel even worse, and he wished he could just wipe those tears away and never cause her to cry again.

"I'm sorry," he said dumbly.

Shaking her head, she angrily brushed away the one tear that had the nerve to creep down her cheek, and she said, "Don't be. I'm drunk, I wasn't thinking clearly."

He would allow that she wasn't completely sober, but she was also by no means drunk. Obviously she was trying to collect what was left of her pride, however, and he wouldn't begrudge her that.

"This is my fault," he stated. "I've sent mixed messages, I confused you…"

"It's not your fault," she said, shaking her head. "You made it very clear that we're friends. I'm fine with that, I… don't know what came over me. Please just… pretend that didn't happen."

"Christine…"

Disinterested in whatever else he had to say, she pulled her wrist free of his grasp and turned away from him, taking another step toward the table.

Wanting to stall her for at least another moment, he said, "Wait, do you have a way home? Here, take some money for a cab."

Before he could pull his wallet out of his back pocket, she turned back to him, a spark of rebelliousness that had never been in her eyes when she looked at him suddenly present. "I don't need your money, Professor Destler."

Ignoring the little jab, he said, "Well, you shouldn't be walking around late at night in that. I just want to make sure you get home safely."

Smiling without humor, she said, "Don't worry, my friend won't let any harm come to me."

He felt the muscle in his jaw pulse a little, but he showed no reaction beyond what he hoped looked like an accepting nod. "I would encourage you not to do anything foolish because you have wounded pride, Christine."

"Thought you didn't care," she said, looking vaguely annoyed.

"Christine… just because I'm not in a position to…" Sighing a little, he tried again. "Think about this rationally, Christine. Keeping our relationship a secret right now isn't extremely difficult; we don't see each other too frequently outside of school, and when we do we can generally say it's related to school or at least music. Aside from being _completely _unethical and risking my job if anyone did find out, you would have to keep me a secret from everyone in your life—Meg couldn't know, your own mother couldn't know… the secrecy would become a problem."

"You don't owe me any explanations, Erik," she said quietly, echoing his earlier words. "I had no right to ask you to take such a risk. Like I said, can you just… forget that ever happened?"

Not on his life, but he nodded anyway.

She nodded too, but there was no sparkle in her eyes. "Should I still meet you tomorrow…?"

"Yes, if you would still be interested in lessons, I would still gladly instruct you."

"'Kay. Then I'll see you tomorrow."

"Be safe, Christine."

Not bothering to respond, she gave a small wave and then she walked back over to the table. Raoul immediately looked up at her, noticed the visibly unhappy look on her face, and asked if she was okay.

"I'm fine," she murmured, waiting for him to slide out so that she could slide in.

He finally did, and then he turned—a bit too perceptively—to see where Christine had been or who she had been talking to that she was no longer in the good mood she had been in when she left the table. He did catch just the sight of Erik's masked face as he stole a last glance at Christine's table before leaving the club, but Raoul frowned, thinking possibly that wasn't the teacher he had peeked into Christine's classroom to see. After all, why would Christine be upset if she simply ran into her teacher?

She didn't seem to notice—or, in fact, care—when he didn't immediately slide in next to her, but he remembered himself after a moment and slid in beside her, moving his arm around her shoulder and pulling her against his chest. She didn't fight him, but she seemed distant even as she tilted her head to rest on his shoulder, her chocolate curls spilling rather attractively over his chest.

God, she was beautiful.

Smiling slightly, he gently tipped her chin back so that she had to look up at him, and there was a small pout on her downturned lips, but he thought she looked like a displeased princess. "You are stunning," he stated quietly, lightly brushing his fingers across her porcelain skin.

It was a very small smile, but her eyes warmed a little bit and her pout melted off of her face, her lips tugging upward ever so slightly.

Encouraged, Raoul smiled and impulsively leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her lips.

"You're sure you're all right?" he asked her.

Nodding her head, she shifted positions so that she was more upright, just lightly leaning against his shoulder. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you for caring though."

Raoul smiled, giving her a tenderly playful little wink as he said, "How could I not? I'd have to be made of tin."

Although he obviously didn't understand why, _that _particular line caused her smile to fall right back off her face, and he felt momentarily frustrated with himself for burying the lead.

"I got you another martini," he volunteered, hoping she would drink and socialize like she had been before she had gone to the bathroom, when she had been happy.

"I didn't want one," she said gently, but nonetheless shoved the martini away from herself.

His handsome brow furrowed, and he said, "Tell me how I can cheer you up."

Shaking her head, she forced a smile and said, "I swear, I'm fine. I think I should be heading home though. I have a lot to do tomorrow."

"All right," he said, nodding. "Would you like me to hail you a cab?"

"No, I can handle it," she assured him, sitting up and looking across at Meg. Her best friend was busy flirting with Conor, but Christine's patience was shot. "Meg?"

Before she even looked, Meg already knew what Christine wanted. Her lips turned down and she said, "We have to leave already?"

"I guess you don't have to if you don't want to, but I don't want you to have to go home alone."

Shaking her head, Meg said, "I can't let _you _leave alone, either. We can go."

"I could take her," Raoul offered.

"Oh no you don't, Prince Charming," Meg said, raising a skeptical eyebrow at him. "The only person either one of us is leaving with is either one of us. We don't go home with handsome boys no matter how many cocktails we've had."

"That's too bad," Conor murmured, trying to pull her back into his arms.

Raising her eyebrow even higher, she said, "Don't push you luck, buddy. I flirt, but I'm no hoe." Easily scooting her way down the booth, she offered Christine a casual smile before sensing the slightly red-rimmed eyes and the slight shine on her eyes. Immediately her smile fell and she leaned in, whispering, "Are you okay?"

"I'm great," Christine said unconvincingly. "Can we just go?"

"Did something happen? Did Raoul do something—"

"No, not Raoul," Christine said, shaking her head. "I… did something very stupid, but it doesn't matter now, I just… really want to go home."

Brow furrowing in concern, Meg glanced up at Raoul with a little less patience. "Want to scoot out so we can leave?"

Raoul promptly scooted out of the booth, standing back so that Christine and Meg could stand up, and since Christine no longer cared, Meg took the liberty of tugging the back of Christine's mini skirt down.

"You're right, that's short," Meg admitted.

Scoffing, Christine said, "I tried to tell you that before we left the house, but can you ever listen to me? No."

Half-shrugging, Meg said, "Normally you're too conservative."

Rolling her eyes, she replied, "Yeah, well, when I stop being conservative I really go all out."

"What did you do?" Meg demanded.

"I'll tell you on the way back to your apartment," Christine said miserably, stepping closer to Raoul and giving him a hug. "Thank you for inviting us, I had a nice time," she said politely.

Embracing her for a moment longer than was necessary, Raoul pulled back only slightly—but kept his arms around her—and said, "It was our pleasure. You should hang out with us more often."

"Well, hopefully with her new job we'll all have more Christine time," Meg said, looping her arm through Christine's and blowing Conor and air kiss. "We will see you gentlemen later."

Allowing Meg to pull Christine out of his arms, Raoul said, "Call me tomorrow if you get a chance, perhaps we can have dinner."

"I don't think so," she said apologetically. "I have… homework tomorrow."

"All day?" he asked lightly.

Shrugging, she said, "I'll call if I get some free time."

"When do you start your new job again?" Raoul asked.

Hesitating, Christine said, "I'm not completely positive if I'm going to be getting a new job… I'll let you know."

As soon as they said goodbye and got a fair distance away from the table, Meg was alert. "Why don't you know if you're going to be taking the job now? It's like a dream job, I thought you were really excited about it."

"Well, I was…"

"What changed?" Meg asked.

Sighing, Christine said, "Well, it all started at school today when I foolishly told Erik that if he was out and about tonight he should stop by…"

-o-

**A/N:** And that was all she wrote! (For now, anyway.) :) Sorry for the turbulence, but… it's Erik's fault. I totally wanted him to kiss her; he was a spaz. :\


	10. Phantom Skyscraper

**A/N:** So, this is somewhat random personal story/ff-tie-in but I found it odd enough to remark on and it kind of amused me while simultaneously giving me this all-powerful feeling that I could momentarily influence the universe. My professor who inspired me to begin this story—who scares the bejeezes out of me and sadly is not as compelling or helpful as Erik—randomly showed up to visit me at work a couple days after he found out where I worked. Which was weird and highly unexpected. And he didn't give me $42, so it was also disappointing, lol. If I go out to a nightclub, I am SO not inviting him.

Also, sorry for the longer delay in updating. I've been wanting to write; the Queen of the Night music has actually been playing every single day at my work, and it always makes me think of this story, but my workload has been crushing me, so I haven't had a chance before today.

**Tina95:** He really does! I don't know why the obstinate man can't just cooperate. Sometimes I hate when characters overrule me. :\

* * *

-o-

* * *

Luckily for Christine, the next day was not half as awful as she expected it to be.

When she woke up the next day in her bed, she had a moment of blissful forgetfulness. She had been absorbed in the loveliest dream; she had been with Erik, and for some reason they had been in something that looked like a gondola, but no one else was with them steering, they were totally alone. She was so happy to be there with him, and he definitely liked her—he was holding her hand from time to time and singing something to her about the music of the night.

When her blasted alarm clock began buzzing and pulled her out of her beautiful dream, she was a little befuddled at first. Where was Erik? Where was the boat? They had just been about to land and they were going to go… somewhere, but she already forgot where he was taking her.

Then the events of the night before washed over her, the remembered humiliation of being bold and then promptly being rejected. What had she been thinking? Well, okay, she knew what she was thinking; she liked Erik. She was attracted to him on every level—even some levels she felt she wasn't completely aware of, she just knew that she was helplessly drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Unfortunately, like the stupid moth she had thrown caution to the wind and went right for her pretty flame.

And boy did _that _burn.

She could still hear his coolly composed voice informing her that he didn't care who she kissed. He probably just thought she was some stupid young girl, and whatever imagined interest she thought she saw…

Well, no, she knew she had seen…

Well, it didn't matter, did it?

Forcing herself to try very hard to forget about it worked out well for a little while, but by the time she had to leave to commute to the city for practice, she was a bundle of nerves. Would it be awkward? She didn't know if she could bear being awkward around Erik, especially knowing it was her fault. Why couldn't she have just left well enough alone?

When she got to Erik's building, she stared up at it for a full minute before going inside. Even the building he lived in was impressive. It was certainly a skyscraper, a good 54-story skyscraper, but that wasn't what was interesting about it. The building almost looked like a mirage, a ghost image of a building that might have been there once before, but wasn't quite real. A phantom skyscraper. Unlike ordinary skyscrapers, the entire building—every single story—was completely reflective, making the impressive structure emerging from the concrete up into the sky look almost translucent.

What a remarkable building, she thought, smiling a little bit before she walked inside.

Erik had told her that his apartment was located on the very top floor. He hadn't given her an apartment number, but when she asked for one he told her it wasn't necessary; his apartment _was _the entire top floor, so when she emerged from the elevator and saw the only door in the hallway, she would know that was his apartment.

The elevator ride took a little while, especially considering people in business suits got on and off at several floors before Christine finally reached the top. When she did reach the top, however, she noticed that there _was _only one apartment door, but there was also a second elevator along the back of the building that didn't look like the other one—it was completely black, and instead of an elevator summoning button on the wall next to it, there was a keypad with numbers on it.

_Strange_, she thought, frowning. She had never seen an elevator with a _keypad _before.

When she got to the door, she was so preoccupied with the luxury of Erik's apartment building that she completely forgot she had tried to kiss him the night before—at least, until he came to the door wearing a pair of black slacks and a black button down shirt. He looked irresistible to Christine, and she was suddenly reminded of her inappropriate attraction to him.

Smiling slightly, Erik said, "Come in, Christine."

Looking for something to say that wouldn't be awkward, she said, "You must leave like twenty minutes early for school every day."

Erik frowned slightly, not comprehending.

"The elevator," she provided. "Fifty million people got on and off of it; it took forever to get up here."

Looking a little surprised, Erik said, "Oh, that's my fault, I apologize. I should have told you to take my elevator."

"Your elevator? You mean the one with the keypad?" she questioned.

Erik nodded. "Yes. I've always been a rather private person, and getting crammed into an elevator with a bunch of people I don't know isn't appealing. There's a password for the elevator, but I'm the only one who knows the password to access it, so you could have come straight up."

Quirking an eyebrow, she said, "You live in an invisible skyscraper and have your own private elevator? I _knew _you were a superhero."

Smiling slightly, he said, "You should see the big spotlight I flash in the sky at night with my symbol in it."

Smiling a little at how easily she felt comfortable with him again, Christine thought maybe the practice wouldn't be as terrible as she had been thinking.

"Anyway, my music room is right through here," he stated, not even giving her a chance to look around as he led her off down a darkened hallway, flipping on a switch as he went.

"Am I going to your secret lair?" she asked, keeping the mood light.

"Naturally," he returned. "What kind of superhero would I be if I didn't take you to my lair?"

"Not a very hospitable one," she verified. "How long have you lived here? This building is… so cool."

"Since it was built," he said vaguely. "Everything up here is built to my specifications."

"So, do you _own _this unit then? I assumed you rented, but if you had it designed…"

"I own it," Erik stated, opening up a mahogany door and pushing it open, stepping back as he gestured for her to go inside. "After the lesson if you're hungry we could go down to Cellar for dinner so that you could see where you'll be working."

That reminded her of the awkward interlude the night before, but then she remembered asking him to pretend he didn't remember it… if he was still suggesting they act the same way they had been acting before, that was exactly what he was doing.

Plus, being around him she was so inherently comfortable that it was pretty easy to forget that she was supposed to feel awkward. "Yeah, we could probably do that… as long as we get separate checks," she added as an afterthought, her rejection from the previous night still not completely forgotten.

Leveling a pointed glance at her, he said, "For one thing, we've already had this discussion. It's completely irrelevant, however, as I'm never charged when I dine at Cellar. More often than not I have food brought up to me, but I imagine you would rather eat downstairs than up here."

Quirking an eyebrow, she said, "They feed you for free just because you live in their building?"

Erik didn't answer her, instead he turned to look over his music room as if trying to imagine looking at it for the first time. Christine had been busy paying attention to him and forgot to look at the room, but she intuitively followed his lead, and she took in the sight of the room.

"Whoa," she murmured unintentionally, her eyes widening.

The room didn't look like it belonged in any apartment; it looked like it belonged in a royal palace. The ceilings were vaulted—she hadn't even been paying attention in the living room, she had been thoroughly preoccupied by Erik—and the room was incredibly large, probably the size of two normal living rooms put together. The room had marble floors, a tan shade with golden veins, and the windows were enormous, nearly reaching the ceiling and decorated with heavy velvet drapes in a deep shade of burgundy. The drapes were pulled back, allowing light to flood in through them and also providing a sweeping view of the city down below. There was a tall bookcase that appeared to house scores of music on the far wall, but what immediately caught Christine's eye was the magnificent black piano that was positioned over by the windows. Above it—making the piano in the corner seem like the centerpiece of the room—the ceiling was rounded, and in the center hanging directly above the piano was a gorgeous chandelier. Vaguely, Christine saw cases for other instruments around the room, but she was drawn to the piano just like she was drawn to its master.

She didn't realize she was approaching it until she felt herself reach out and tough it, lightly stroking the keys but not eliciting any noise from them. To wring music from the instrument without permission seemed almost like an insult.

Frowning slightly, she realized she was thinking of a musical instrument as if it were a person.

"You like the piano?" Erik asked, his voice lightly amused.

Turning to glance back at him, she could only raise her eyebrows as if to say, "Are you serious?"

"Try it out," he suggested, walking over toward her.

Sighing wistfully, she took a seat at the piano and ran her fingers lovingly over the keys again. "It's so beautiful. Our piano was really old and beat up, but this… this is beautiful."

"I'm glad you like it," he said softly.

At his tone, Christine swiftly turned her gaze on him, her eyes narrowing. It was at the forefront of her mind to tell him not to say things like that to her—if he didn't care, then he shouldn't care what she liked.

As if reading her mind, Erik immediately straightened, regaining his authoritative stance. "Would you like to begin with some warm-ups?"

Glancing back down at the piano in front of her, she said, "I thought you were going to let me hear some opera or something."

"Ah, yes. Which one would you like to hear?"

"You said you want to train me for the Queen of the Night one, right? You could play that one."

Erik smirked a little, but he nodded obediently and then walked to the side of the room opposite the piano. It took a moment for him to get the audio going, but then music started playing from a sound system she couldn't see.

In the first few seconds that she began listening to the song, she was interested, but wondered how he expected her to sing a song with lyrics that were in a language she didn't even understand. She would need to at least get an interpretation of the song so she would know what was going on, thereby knowing which emotions to portray.

Then, in no time at all, the woman's real magic began, and Christine slowly realized that Erik had to be joking.

When the song ended and Erik pushed a button, turning off the music and approaching the piano, he glanced at her for an opinion.

Smiling and nodding, she said, "Okay, good joke. Now play the real song."

"That is the real song," he stated.

Blinking, she said, "I can't sing _that_. There's no way." When she continued to stare at him, however, he betrayed no amusement. Her smile faltered. "You can't be serious. There's no way you could possibly expect me to sing that. That's… that's… impossible."

Shaking his head, he said, "It's not impossible. Luciana can sing it."

"I'm not Luciana," she said helplessly. "I… I can't do that, Erik. What that woman did with her voice… that is _far _outside of my vocal range."

Rolling his eyes, Erik said, "Well, if you could do it right now you wouldn't very well need me, now would you? I told you I want to train you to sing that song, I didn't say you would be able to perform it for me today."

"But… I can't do that. I don't think you're understanding me—I can _never _do that. She hit a note in that song that could probably shatter glass. My voice can go pretty high, but not _that _high, and I don't have the control to manipulate my voice the way that she did. Her voice skips around the scale effortlessly, but I can't do that."

"All of this can be taught," he stated simply. "Why do you think I've been so pushy about you making time to develop your voice, Christine? You have to make up for lost time."

"For what purpose?" she asked, shaking her head. "People train for years and years to be able to perform opera, Erik; what good is that going to do me?"

"Do you not like opera?"

"I don't listen to opera, but I liked that. The point isn't whether or not I like it, the point is when am I ever going to _use _it?"

With another look of vague exasperation, Erik said, "You will use it when you perform."

The man was very, very stubborn.

Shaking her head at the fruitlessness of disagreeing with him, she said, "Okay, I'm not even going to argue with you. If it will please you to try to teach me to do something I'm not capable of, then we'll do it."

"Do you enjoy performing, Christine?"

"Yes," she answered without enthusiasm, already knowing where he was going with that.

Instead of wasting his breath with the same discussion they kept coming back to about her future and how her practicality was stupid—in Erik's eyes, at least—Erik merely nodded and said, "Let's begin."

-o-

He was never going to let her stop practicing.

When he gave her a break from singing, he still had wisdom to impart, remarks to make about her diaphragm, and additional critiques on her voice—which he was thoroughly frustrated with, due to Christine's lack of practice.

"Let me play it for you one more time, you're not quite nailing it."

Sighing and slumping her shoulders a little, she said, "Erik, you said the last time was the last time."

"I promise this will be the last one. I don't want to overdo it and shock your poor vocal chords, but I want to try it just one more time."

"Then _you _sing it," she muttered.

He smiled slightly, shaking his head, and then his fingers began gliding over the keys one more time.

Before Christine had to begin singing, however, Erik's hands clattered against the piano, his brow furrowing as he became instantly alert.

Feeling a little startled as Erik promptly stood and walked toward the door of the music room, Christine also felt confused. "What are you doing? I thought we were going to…"

Then she heard it. From outside the door, a woman's voice called out, "Erik, where are you?"

Christine's eyes widened and a wave of shock rolled over her, immediately followed by an intense stab of jealousy. A woman was entering Erik's apartment—presumably with a _key_—like she owned the place?

Opening the music room door, Erik peered out. "I'm in the music room. What are you doing here?"

It was Christine's instinct to try to crane her head to catch a glimpse of the female, but as it turned out, she didn't have to. Without invitation, a dainty hand shoved the door open and she sauntered right into that room, too, offering him the sweetest grin in the world as she held a black instrument case out to him.

"Will you change my violin string? You know how much I hate doing it."

Sighing, Erik raked a hand through his hand saying, "I am in the middle of something, you impertinent little brat."

Brat, Christine reflected, was _not _the word to use on the woman before her. Honestly, Christine was a little stunned when she got a full glimpse of the woman. The woman was tall, several inches taller than Christine but still shorter than Erik and she had a very delicate, willowy frame while somehow also maintaining feminine curves. Her hair was long and black, just barely brushing her butt and it had a gentle curl. Her body was flawless, but her face was absolutely beyond compare. In that moment, Christine was certain she had never seen a more beautiful woman in her entire life. Finely sculpted cheekbones sat below a beautiful, almost exotic pair of brown eyes, and below was a well formed mouth painted red—Christine normally hated red lipstick, but somehow looking at the woman before her she considered it classic and wished she had the complexion to pull it off. Even the woman's _teeth _were perfect, Christine thought with dismay.

"Luciana?" she asked with dread.

Startled, the woman turned to look at Christine, her lovely eyes widening. "Oh, my… I didn't realize you had a _guest_! Please forgive my intrusion," she said, immediately looking back to Erik.

Shaking his head with a rather tolerant smile, Erik plucked the violin case out of her hand. "It's no problem. Why do _I _always have to change your strings? You're perfectly capable of doing this yourself."

As sweetly as a child holding the expensive toy they wanted for Christmas, she gave Erik an exaggeratedly adoring look and said, "Because you're so much better at it?"

Feeling her stomach squeeze itself together yet again, Christine wondered if studying with Erik was going to give her an ulcer. If his rigorous practices didn't drive her to it, his ridiculously attractive former student certainly would.

Erik rolled his eyes, but opened up the case nonetheless. "Fetch me a string then."

She bobbed her head and eagerly made her way across the room, opening up a little drawer and withdrawing something, then heading back over to Erik.

Christine, feeling like a masochist, watched as the other woman gracefully made her way across the room—in _heels—_with gently swaying hips and her skirt—which hung modestly to her knees—lightly swaying as well, further emphasizing the extreme femininity of the young musician.

Feeling her face flush, Christine thought back to the previous evening—no _wonder _Erik hadn't wanted to kiss her; he was probably thoroughly infatuated with Luciana. Honestly, who could blame him? Given the choice between kissing silly, struggling, collegiate Christine with her undeveloped talent and lack of experience in _every _arena of life, and that of the lovely Luciana—an accomplished opera singer, apparent violinist, and a breathtakingly gorgeous paradigm of womanhood—who in his right mind would pick Christine?

"Do you have any food?" the young woman continued, raising a delicate black eyebrow at Erik. "I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry," he muttered.

Brightening, she said, "I have a cheesecake downstairs in my apartment. I could bring cheesecake." Turning to Christine, she said, "Do you like cheesecake?"

Still feeling flushed, Christine nodded but got up off the bench. "I do, but don't worry about me. I should be going anyway."

Erik's attention returned to Christine abruptly. "I thought we were having dinner at Cellar?"

"Oh, _God_," the woman moaned, looking genuinely embarrassed. "I interrupted a _date_? I am _so _sorry—Erik, you idiot, why didn't you say something? I'll bring the violin back later—er, well, no… I'll… change the E string myself. You let me prattle on like an idiot," she muttered, reaching for the violin case.

"It is not a date, this is a music lesson; Christine is my student," he said firmly.

Rolling her eyes, the raven haired beauty turned back to Christine, offering a smile. "I'm sorry, it was terribly rude of me to just barge in here, but I'm not used to Erik having guests. We haven't even been introduced," she added, walking over toward Christine with an outstretched hand.

"I'm Christine," she said, forcing a little smile.

"Lovely to meet you, dear. I'm Meredith, Erik's overly intrusive sister."

Sucking in a little breath, Christine felt relief flood her system. "You're Erik's _sister_?"

"Of course," she said breezily, almost as if to say, 'Who else would I be?'

A little bit of nervous laughter bubbled out of Christine and she shook her head derisively. "His sister. Okay. That's… great. It's nice to finally meet you, I've heard of you but he didn't… fully prepare me. Anyway, it's nice to meet you, I'm sorry."

Meredith's eyes narrowed into almost knowing little slits as she said, "You called me Luciana before. Why did you _think _I barged into Erik's apartment unannounced?"

Flushing once more, Christine merely shrugged, hoping her expression didn't tell on her but knowing it probably did.

Stealing a glance at Erik over her shoulder, Meredith cocked her head to the side thoughtfully, then she looked back at Christine, her eyes clear and an amused smile on her face as she said, "Ah."

"'Ah' nothing," Erik blustered, storming over to Meredith and giving her a stormy look.

"Of course, Erik," Meredith nodded with feigned submissiveness. "Now, give me my violin and take her to dinner."

"It is not a date," he repeated, trying to wrestle Meredith into submission with the intensity of his stare.

Having been exposed to his most withering looks for all of her life, she merely grinned at him, looking ten years younger than she actually was. "Methinks my brother doth protest too much," she said lightly, giving up her attempt to get the violin case and instead walking over to Christine, giving her a subtly appraising once-over. "Well, since I've already gone and hijacked your music lesson, perhaps we can get acquainted while my brother fixes my instrument."

But Erik was having none of that. He marched over and offered her the violin. "Unfortunately, we were just about to go to dinner, so I'm afraid your opportunity to try to pry information out of Christine is futile. I'll stop by your apartment and fix the string on my way back up."

Amused at seeing Erik so off-kilter, Christine not-so-innocently suggested, "Well, since it's _so _not a date, Erik, maybe your sister would like to join us?"

"What a great idea," Meredith said brightly.

Erik didn't seem to agree, but he also didn't appear to have an immediate excuse to use to get out of it.

"So, my brother is your voice tutor?" Meredith asked of Christine.

Nodding her head, she verified, "And my professor, actually."

Meredith's jaw went a little slack and she slanted a pointed look in Erik's direction.

The visible cheek actually colored, and Christine found herself reluctantly impressed—she had never imagined someone making Erik blush.

"I told you she is my student," Erik said distinctly.

"I thought you meant like Luciana was your student," she said slyly.

"Luciana _was _my student," Erik said, the 'was' coming out as a bit of a growl. "Christine is not just a side project I picked up, however; she's taking my music theory class."

"Well, _that's _a great idea," Meredith said sarcastically. Then she shrugged, smiling again and said loyally, "Oh well, I'm sure you know what you're doing."

Biting back the urge to inform them that she was sitting _right there_, Christine merely crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side, glancing to Erik for his response.

"I am training her voice, nothing more," he stated in a tone that brooked no argument.

Patting her brother on the arm, Meredith said, "We'll talk at dinner. I'm absolutely famished."

Erik sighed, but he knew defeat when it was looking back at him with dancing brown eyes. Glancing to Christine, he said, "Are you ready?"

"Oh, you remembered I'm here?" she joked, offering a little smile. "I'm ready when you are."

With that, Meredith's violin was left in the music room and the three of them headed out to Erik's elevator. Meredith pressed in the code and then stepped back.

"So, Christine, tell me about yourself."

"What would you like to know?"

"You go to school at Columbia—did your parents go there?"

"No, Columbia was my idea," Christine told her, shaking her head.

"Do you live in the area? Alone or with a roommate?"

The entire elevator ride went like that—Meredith gently interrogating Christine, and when she asked certain questions, like "Are you parents protective?" Christine got the idea that Meredith was asking more out of concern for her brother than genuine curiosity about her as a person. By the time they made it to the entryway for the restaurant, Christine did her best to reassure Meredith under the completely indirect guise of getting to know her, that her father had been protective but he passed away, and there was more or less no one who would give a fig who Christine was spending her time with.

"Whoa," Christine said, glancing around the little entry room littered with nicely dressed people. The lights in that particular area of the restaurant were actually blue and in the very center of the room—surrounded by a square of black leather seats for people to sit on if they wanted to while they waited—was a huge sculpture that looked like it had frozen carbonation bubbles in the shape of the big C that protruded into the air. Ahead of the sculpture was the hostess stand and from there the normally lit dining room could be seen branching off to the left and the right.

"I love this place," Meredith said. "The grilled mahi mahi is fun to say and tastes like heaven. If you don't know what to get, that's my recommendation."

"Christine doesn't like seafood," Erik informed his sister.

"How do you know?" Meredith returned, smiling impishly.

Slanting his sister a look that told her he was not amused, he stepped forward to the hostess stand.

"How many?" the woman asked, not even looking up.

"Three," Erik replied.

"There's going to be about a half hour wait, I'll take your name and—" The girl abruptly stopped when she finally looked up at him, her eyes widening on the mask but not in confusion, in recognition. "Mr. Destler! I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was you," she said, grabbing three menus and coming around the desk. "Do you mind the left side tonight? The right side is just completely booked…"

"That's fine," Erik said, nodding.

"There's no longer a wait?" Christine asked quietly to Meredith.

"My brother works magic, don't you know."

"Yes, I've noticed," Christine murmured.

"Monsieur Firmin is over on the other side right now, but I'll let him know you're here," the hostess said, twenty times friendlier than she had been when she hadn't recognized him. "Is a booth in the back corner okay? We have a rounded one available."

"That will be fine, Sabrina," Erik said with a brief nod.

As they took their seats in the cozy little booth tucked in the back corner, Sabrina put their menus in front of them and said, "Would you like me to grab your drinks?" Glancing to Meredith, she questioned, "Pino tonight, right?"

"No wine for me," Christine said quickly. "Can I just get water?"

"I'll have a pino," Meredith said with a nod.

"Iced tea," Erik added.

Taking in the lovely sights around the room, Christine allowed her eyes to wonder, looking at the decorative pieces and thinking that it was certainly a nice place. She expected to see a piano, but she didn't see one.

As if reading her mind, Erik said, "The piano is on the other side."

Christine nodded, resuming her perusal for a moment but then her eyes landed on a more familiar looking table and her heart slammed forward in her chest.

"Oh no," she said on a gasp, her eyes darting over the table and then finally lowering her head and bringing her hand up to cover a little bit of her face.

"What's wrong?" Erik asked, frowning.

"I have to leave," Christine stated, glancing a little frantically in the direction that she had just walked in.

"Why?" he demanded, the frown deepening even more.

"Because Raoul and his family are right over there," she stated, offering a subtle head nod in the direction that she just spotted Raoul's mother and father, then Phillipe, then Raoul.

"Who's Raoul?" Meredith asked, keenly interested.

"A friend from school," Christine said vaguely.

"Ah," Meredith said, offering a knowing nod. "Well, in that case, perhaps _I_ should escort you out in case you get spotted."

"Of all the restaurants in this city…"

Almost apologetically, Meredith said, "They just got a rave review a few days ago, foodies all over the city were bound to come in. Come on, scoot scoot."

"I'm sorry," Christine said to Erik. "The chances of this happening…"

He was smiling a little derisively and he shook his head. "No need to apologize, this is merely proving my point."

Her eyes narrowed a little bit and she realized she resented the truth of his words. "_I _don't care if he sees me here, but I figured _you _might."

"I meant no offense," Erik replied neutrally.

"I know what you meant," she said a little shortly, snatching up her purse and sliding out of the booth. "For the record, _I _would have been happy staying in your apartment with take-out."

"Hidden away in my penthouse like a stolen masterpiece?"

Shaking her head, she said, "I'll see you Monday, Erik."

"With your homework, Miss Daaé," he responded levelly.

Glancing uncertainly between the two, Meredith said, "Would you like me to walk you out?"

"No thanks," Christine said, sliding her purse onto her shoulder. "It was very nice meeting you."

"And you," Meredith returned with a nod.

Christine offered one last forced smile and then she made a beeline out of the restaurant, not willing to look back at either one of them.

-o-

**A/N:** Hope you enjoyed!

Also, I know this is not anywhere near the musical level of POTO, but I happened to hear a song the other day with lyrics that made me think of this story—Ours, by Taylor Swift, in case you're interested. :)


	11. Sloshed

**A/N:** Hey guys! Thanks for the feedback! I do love feedback. :)  
I have to make a little response/explanation again. (I was going to respond individually to this question, but several people have inquired and I imagine for the few that have asked, there are several more who wonder but just don't say anything.)

Concerning **Raoul**, and more directly, why Christine is not interested in dating him. Obviously from the moment that he entered the scene, Christine more or less shrugged him off. She never blushed or swooned or gushed over him. Why? Because he's not her type. Because while she has nothing _against _him, he is not someone that she sees herself dating. I'm sure that you have all met—many, but at least one—some guy who has asked you out, and you've said no thanks for exactly the same reason. I probably did it in a non-consequential way because it's more or less the process that I go through, and I just gave it to Christine. You meet a guy, he asks you out before he even really knows you, and you appraise him—is he cute? Do you have anything in common? Does he do anything that aggravates you? If you like take-charge guys, does he seem assertive? If you _hate _take-charge guys, does he seem laid back? Lots of women have little mental checklists that they go over when looking at a potential suitor. You take inventory. You think, "Hey, is this a guy that I want to spend my very limited time getting to know? Do I have any interest in dating this person?"

If the answer is no, as it was for Christine, then you don't. (Also, in the very first scene she exhibits this, dismissing him for going through her phone when she thought that was rude, and she later commented on it in her thoughts when she considered that activities Raoul wanted to do weren't to her liking, whereas Erik would prefer to do things that she liked to do.) Long story short, there's just no spark for Christine when she thinks of/looks at Raoul. It's like looking at Meg. No attraction.

* * *

-o- _**Chapter Eleven**_ -o-

* * *

Since Erik had procured her a new job, Christine realized—albeit belatedly—that she was suddenly going to be seeing him at least five times a week.

On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays she had to sit in her table at the front of class and try to keep her thoughts strictly focused on what he was teaching. It was difficult to keep her senseless mind from wandering; despite Erik's apparent lack of interest in crossing any lines with her, it seemed to be one of the predominant thoughts in her mind for the better part of the time. Tuesday and Thursday nights she had chorus practice and Erik was always in attendance, his very presence swallowing up most of Christine's focus.

It was precisely that increase in time spent with him that she chose to blame when she dragged herself across campus Friday morning, exhausted from lack of good sleep. All night—for the third night in a row—Christine's dream were consumed with Erik. The first night it hadn't really been much of a concern; it was kind of nice to have a dream of Erik, especially since in the dream he was actually singing for her, something he had yet to do in life. When she awoke the next morning she couldn't remember for the life of her what his voice sounded like, she only remembered that in her dream it had been the loveliest sound ever to grace her ears.

The second night she had been in an ocean or some other body of water, lying in a boat or a raft or some sort of floating device, and while she couldn't _see _Erik, she could see him and feel him as she drifted along, smiling and pleasantly spending her whole dream just listening to him.

By the third night, the dream had taken a slightly more unusual twist. She was still at the water, but it was darker, the clouds were stormier and at the beginning of the dream she had been afraid. Then she heard Erik's voice, starting out as a gentle hum that seemed to come almost from within her, then blossoming outward. Before Christine knew it, Erik's voice seemed to be at once booming from the sky and from the other side of the ocean. Beginning to walk toward the ocean, toward the compelling sound of his voice, she knew that if she could only get to the other side, she would reach the voice. Of course, in her haste to get to Erik, it didn't occur to her to swim; she was pushed under the water struggling desperately for breath when she snapped out of the dream and came awake in her bed. It was the middle of the night, but she hadn't been able to fall back asleep.

For the first time since the start of the semester, Christine was actually the last person to make it to class.

Glancing at his watch, Erik said, "You guys have about a minute left, but since you're all here now, we may as well get started."

While she normally enjoyed listening to Erik's lecture, she was too tired on Friday, so she sat there with decidedly less enthusiasm as she sipped her coffee in an attempt to wake up.

When class was over, she was equally as lazy; everyone else filed out, then she pulled herself out of the chair and yanked her bag up onto her shoulder.

"You seem sluggish today," Erik remarked.

"Couldn't sleep," she muttered.

"Did you want to have a lesson this weekend?" Erik asked.

Stifling a yawn with her hand, Christine nodded. "Yeah, sure. Tomorrow?"

"We could," he agreed with a nod. "You work in my building at four, so perhaps you could meet me at one? I should probably feed you before I send you to work."

"That didn't really work out so well last time," she stated. "Maybe I could just whip something up with whatever groceries you have in the house."

Raising an eyebrow, Erik appeared intrigued by the possibility. "You want to cook?"

"The domestic diva in me is just begging to come out," she said with light sarcasm and a little smile. "Over the past year, I've learned to make dinner out of little more than a ketchup packet; I assure you that even in a bachelor kitchen I can whip something up."

Smiling slightly, he replied, "Well, I can assure you I don't have a bachelor kitchen. I would feel bad putting you to work though."

"Nonsense. You don't charge me for the voice lessons, the very least that I can do would be to cook you some dinner."

"Well, if you are so inclined, feel free. I haven't had a meal cooked in my kitchen since Meredith tried to burn my house down last Christmas."

"I promise not to burn your house down," Christine told him, still smiling a little.

Truth be told, Christine was a pretty good cook, and even though she had told herself about nine thousand times since that night at the club that she needed to stop caring about Erik as anything but a music teacher, the idea of making him a nice dinner and maybe impressing him a little still made her heart give a little lurch. Masochistic or not, she craved Erik's approval in just about every area of her life, even if she didn't necessarily understand why.

"It's settled then. Would you mind if I came over a little bit early so I can check for supplies, that way if you don't have everything I need I can run out and get groceries?"

Shrugging, he said, "Come whenever you would like."

A little haltingly, she said, "Maybe… we should exchange numbers or something—just so we could actually communicate if we needed to."

She saw the wheels briefly turning in his head as he formulated a rational response to her question. In no time at all, he nodded, saying, "You should probably be able to contact me in the event that you couldn't make a music lesson anyway."

"Definitely. And the same goes for you," she returned easily, accepting his stupid logical reasoning as long as she still got her way. Approaching his desk and leaning over, she jotted her phone number down on a piece of paper.

Erik blinked at the piece of paper, and she suddenly realized how juvenile it felt to exchange phone numbers on a torn piece of notebook paper. Blushing a little, Christine pulled out her cell phone and said, "You know what, I could just take your number down into my phone, you don't have to write it down for me."

Smiling slightly, Erik shook his head and bent over the paper, jotting down a phone number without a name attached and then handing it back to her. "This is fine."

She still felt vaguely embarrassed—she hated anything that she thought might remind Erik of her age—but she couldn't very well hand him her business card. Murmuring a thanks, she looked down at the paper in her hand, almost absently running her thumb over the page where his phone number was.

Moving on to the next order of business, Erik said, "You know, perhaps your friend Meg has the right idea."

Blinking, Christine could only stare at him, confused as to why he was even talking about Meg—and trying to remember if she had ever even mentioned Meg to him. "Um… how does Meg have the right idea?"

"You mentioned that she thought you two should get an apartment in the city. If you have to commute so far in the daytime, that's one thing, but you're going to be commuting late at night on weekends and I can't help but think that's needlessly dangerous. If you lived _in _the city in a safe neighborhood, you wouldn't have to worry about that so much."

Offering him a small smile, she said, "I _don't _worry about it. Like my father always said, if the sky is going to fall tomorrow, no amount of worrying is going to keep it up, so you best enjoy today."

Smiling derisively, Erik amended, "Fine, then _I _wouldn't have to worry about it so much."

"There's no reason for you to worry," she stated. "You have done more than enough for me, I assure you."

"Still, I would rest easier if I knew you weren't walking around amidst pickpockets, drug dealers and rapists in the middle of the night."

"Well, the pickpockets must not have much talent if they target a girl who can't even afford to live in the city, the drug dealers would be wasting their time approaching me, and the rapists I do try to avoid."

"There are still a few scholarships floating around," Erik told her vaguely. "In the event that you get one of them, I would encourage you to look into Meg's idea. There are some affordable options to consider."

Rolling her eyes, but not unpleasantly, Christine said, "Okay, Erik, I promise that if a sizeable scholarship falls into my lap I will immediately look for a safe, affordable apartment in the city, far away from pickpockets, drug dealers and rapists."

Despite the obvious sarcasm of her statement, Erik nodding, looking quite appeased.

She merely grinned, amused, and shook her head. "I'll see you tomorrow, Erik."

"Have a nice night at work, Christine. I hope you enjoy your new job."

-o-

As it turned out, Christine _did _enjoy her new job.

Of course, there was really nothing _not _to like about it. Upon her arrival she was introduced to the owner and manager, "Monsieur Firmin" was very excitable with a thick French accent. As soon as he bustled away from Christine and Sabrina, the hostess who was showing her around the restaurant, she was informed with a roll of the eye that the man had never even _been _France, but they all went along with his pretense just to humor him.

Christine found over the course of the evening that she was treated more as a guest than an employee. She played the piano, a little nervously at first to be playing in front of so many people, but before long she was as comfortable as could be.

When she wanted to take breaks, she was allowed and even offered beverages and snacks by Firmin. The rest of the employees were bustling about, extremely busy on the weekend night, and as Christine sipped her water and watched them running around frantically, she felt a little guilty that she was there but she wasn't helping.

When Firmin—who had the most amusing habit of resembling a headless chicken as he ran around, accomplishing very little except for irritating the girls—happened by Christine she caught his attention, saying, "Monsieur, is there _anything _I can help with? I do have hostessing experience, I could…"

"Oh, no, no," he insisted, shaking his head. "You must not worry, mademoiselle! I must go to the kitchens but you sit there, yes?"

With a delicate shrug, she went back to her beverage and gave up trying to help.

The only time during the entire evening that she felt helpful was when a 12-year-old girl who realized she worked there since she had been playing the piano stopped to ask her where the bathroom was, and Christine was able to point it out to her.

Inexplicably, at the end of her shift Firmin launched into a short bout of praise about how wonderful she had been and how glad he was to have her aboard. Accepting the praise she didn't even feel she deserved, she thanked him and left, feeling as if she were on top of the world. What a job! Could she really have landed the easiest, most enjoyable job in the entire world? Was it really her responsibility to sit prettily at the piano—whenever she felt like it—while everyone else ran frantic circles around her?

It was nice, for once, not to be the person running around frantically in circles.

As she was leaving the restaurant, she pulled her phone out to call Meg, which she had promised she would do when she got off work to tell her about the new job. When Meg answered, however, there was an abundance of loud laughter and music, causing Christine to grimace and pull the phone away from her ear.

Meg cursed, laughed, and then there was some shuffling and the music faded a bit.

"Sorry, hon!" Meg greeted. "I had to step outside. Did you just get out of work?"

"Yeah, I told you I'd call you after."

"Right, no, I'm so glad you did. We're at Majesté right now, why don't you come meet us?"

"Oh, I don't think so. I'm still dressed from work and I have to get up early tomorrow to get some homework done and then I have a music lesson before work."

"Christine, sweetie, you know that I love you, and it is because I love you that I am saying this. You are _not _allowed to die of love."

Unable to stop a little bit of laughter from bubbling up, Christine managed, "What?"

"No, I'm totally serious," Meg insisted. "In my lit class we're reading these awful poems about these poor women dying for love and… cloistering themselves away like nuns because one dipshit didn't return their love, and I just don't want you to jump off a bridge because your teacher is stupid."

"Wow, Meg, you are _trashed_."

"I _am _trashed," she said in a tone that was at once dramatic and solemn. "_So _true. But we've been having the best time, and there is this skankwhore here who is _all over _Raoul right now, so I really think you should come piss on your tree."

Choking on her laughter again, Christine reiterated, "Piss on my tree?"

"Right," Meg agreed. "I'm sorry, that was crass, I'm just so sloshed. Oh! Sloshed, have you ever used that word? There's this classy Brit guy here from like, Oxford or some shit, and he is absolutely wonderful. He introduced me to the term sloshed, and I must say, I like it."

Sighing to herself, Christine paused on her trek toward home, considering the fact that her best friend was presumably out at a bar, wasted beyond reason, with members of the opposite sex. In one sense, the responsible thing to do would be to go home, but as a responsible friend, she needed to make sure Meg made it home.

Growling a little, Christine said, "Well, now I _have _to come, don't I?"

"Yay! Are you coming to meet the Brit? Because I think you'll find him so entertaining too. If I weren't here with Conor, I would even flirt with him. Well, actually, I have flirted with him a little but Conor understands that I'm thoroughly sloshed so he isn't being grumpy about it. But the skankwhore—did I tell you about the skankwhore? I wasn't sure if you wanted the territory marked or not, you've seemed kind of hot and cold with him, but just in case I've been a total bitch to her."

Christine grinned, allowing Meg to ramble on nonsensically until she made it to the club, where she told the bounder her name again and was let right in, much to the dismay of the line of people standing outside the club.

"My love," Meg called out as soon as she spotted her, flipping her phone shut and dropping it on the table in favor of running over and draping her arms around Christine's neck. "I am so glad you came, even if you are wearing the purple dress instead of the boob dress."

Glancing down at the purple square necked gown that she had selected for her first night of work, Christine remarked, "Well, I have a job at a classy restaurant, Meg, not Hooters."

"How was your first night? Tell me all about it." She then moved off to the side, draping her arm around Christine's shoulder and resting on her rather heavily as she commanded Raoul to go get Christine a martini. The petite brunette beside Raoul raised a perfectly penciled in eyebrow, but Raoul flashed Christine a smile and hopped up to go fetch her a drink.

Unable to restrain herself, Meg scoffed at the brunette and said, "I _told _you that you were wasting your time, Deidre."

With a very tight smile, she said, "My name is _Heidi_, for the third time."

Frowning, Meg said, "You're sure you're not Deidre? I could've sworn… oh well. Christine, you must meet William. Where'd he go?"

"Over here, love," a clean cut blonde said, smiling warmly as Meg hauled Christine over to him.

"Isn't it cute how he calls me love?" Meg gushed. "It's so British."

"You're so drunk," Christine remarked, a little stunned. "How much have you had to drink? You definitely shouldn't have anymore."

"You're just saying that because you have to go see Erik tomorrow so you don't want to stay late."

Eyes widening, Christine squeezed her friend's arm a little bit tighter than was kind. "You wanna keep your voice down, Betty Ford?"

Gasping, Meg threw her hand over her mouth and said, "Oh, I'm so sorry! I totally wasn't thinking."

Quirking an eyebrow, the Brit said, "Who's this Erik chap?"

"No one to concern you, William," Meg stated, walking over to sling her arm around his arm instead. "I was telling my Christine about you on the phone."

"Oh yeah? What did you tell her?" he asked, flashing her an openly solicitous smile.

"I told her you're very British."

"I am that," he agreed with a nod. "Is that the only reason I'm memorable?"

"I'm afraid so," she said gravely.

Laughing, he told her she was delightful and caught her when she stumbled, situating her against his leg. Right about that time, Raoul returned with Christine's martini, casting a speculative glance in Meg's direction and then another glance over his shoulder as he held Christine's drink out.

"What are you looking for?" Christine asked after thanking him.

"Conor. It appears that his date is getting a little friendly with our foreign friend here."

Shrugging, Christine said, "They're not really official or anything, so I'd say she's free to flirt with as many foreigners as she wants to."

"Would you?" he asked, the question seeming benign, but something in his tone sending up an intuitive red flag in her mind.

Studying his face with a higher level of alertness, she forced a smile and said, "What's that supposed to mean?"

One dark blonde eyebrow shot up. "Should it mean anything? I was only making a comment."

"It sounded pointed," she said with a little shrug.

"Perhaps you only perceive it to be pointed," he stated, taking a drink from his own glass.

Brow furrowing slightly, Christine said, "And why would I perceive it to be pointed?"

Sensing that he was not going to get very far with that line, he changed tactics, smiling and saying, "I was implying nothing, Christine. No need to be so defensive."

"I'm not defensive," she stated quite defensively, causing him to raise an eyebrow even higher than before. Lowering her voice a little, she said more calmly, "Why would I be defensive? I have nothing to be defensive about."

"Sounds like it," he remarked dryly. Before she could respond, he quickly went on, "How was your first night at the restaurant? You look lovely, by the way."

"It was fine, thank you," she said, for whatever reason not wanting to talk to him. Truth be told, she hadn't even wanted to go to the club that night, but she didn't want to share any details about her evening and she _definitely _didn't want to explain herself to him.

"Christine, did you know prostitution was legal in Germany?" Meg called over to her friend.

Christine glanced over, saw William's arm even more snugly fitted around Meg's tiny waist, and frowned. "I don't even want to know why you know that," she stated, moving away from Raoul and toward William and Meg, trying to think how best to pull her inebriated friend away from the handsome young man.

"His accent kills me," Meg stated. "It's so damn cute. William, do you have a foreign friend for my friend Christine?"

"I'm afraid not, love," he replied amiably. "We could always make a trip back across the pond though, I'm sure we could find her one."

"Wouldn't that be fun?" Meg asked Christine, grinning. "I've always wanted to visit outside of the country."

"I prefer Paris," Christine stated. "No offense," she added to William.

"None taken," he assured her.

"She doesn't have to travel overseas for a suitor either," Raoul put in amiably.

Christine glanced at him but didn't agree or disagree, instead opting to tilt back her drink for a sip of her martini.

Cluelessly, William said, "Are you referring to yourself or this Erik chap?"

Choking, Christine clutched Raoul more roughly than she needed to, coughing and making a show of patting her chest. As predicted, Raoul immediately came to her aid, taking the glass and studying her with concern as he asked if she was all right.

"Went down the wrong pipe," she finally managed, offering him a watery smile.

"Do you want me to get you some water?" he asked helpfully.

"Yes please," she said, nodding her head.

As soon as he was gone, she promptly glared at Meg, who grimaced in return.

"I'm sorry!" Meg told her, stepping away from William and coming over to Christine. "Don't be mad at me."

"He was right, I shouldn't have told you," Christine stated, not in a very tolerant mood. Suddenly she felt as stupidly young as Erik thought she was. He had told her that night at the club that she would have difficulty doing what would be required for them to have a relationship, keeping things from Meg, keeping their relationship a secret. Even if he _wanted _to be with her, she was _proving _him right every chance she got.

Feeling thoroughly frustrated with herself, Christine said, "Look, can we just go? I only came here because I want to make sure you make it home free of any tag-alongs of the opposite sex."

"No, I don't want you to feel like you shouldn't have told me. I'm your best friend, I'm _glad _you told me. I didn't mean to broadcast it to the whole bar, that was extremely stupid of me and it won't happen again."

"It doesn't have to happen again, Meg, if anyone catches it _tonight_. Don't you understand that he puts himself at a great risk to spend time with me? God, this is _exactly _why he didn't kiss me back."

Frowning, Meg put up a hand in a 'stop' gesture and said, "Wait a minute now, I'm going to take responsibility for spilling the beans here tonight, but it's not _my _fault he didn't kiss you. I mean, he's a man, so as a general rule you would think that would overrule every other thought in his head, but since you said he's super smart, maybe he has better control over himself than most. Whatever the reason, the kiss had nothing to do with me."

"No, it didn't, but he said I'd never be able to keep my mouth shut and he was right," Christine said, shaking her head. "I'm going to keep my mouth shut from now on."

"Or you could just date the guy that wants to date you," Meg suggested with a little shrug. "I'm no rocket scientist, but it seems like an easier plan to me."

Raoul was back then, pushing a glass of water into Christine's hand. She offered him a subdued thanks and then took several sips of the water, glancing at Meg as she lowered the glass. "We should probably get you home."

"Oh, already?" William asked, smiling at Meg. "Wouldn't you like to stay a bit longer?"

"I would, and that is _exactly _why Christine is not going to let me," Meg stated. "She's right, too. I'm too sloshed, William."

"You are sloshed, love," he agreed with a nod.

"Oh, say it again. I love to hear you talk."

"Okay, come on," Christine said, looping her arm through Meg's. "Say goodbye."

"Oh, Raoul! Tell Conor I said bye when you see him," Meg said.

"Well, all right, but wait," he said, following them as they went to walk away. "Christine, what are you doing tomorrow? I was thinking—"

Before he could finish, she was shaking her head. "Lots of homework tomorrow, sorry. Then I have to work."

"Well, maybe lunch on Sunday? Or we could see each other after work tomorrow?"

Frowning slightly, she said, "Um, I'll let you know, okay? See you guys later."

As soon as they were away from the group, Meg was shaking her head. "I've decided I don't know why Raoul likes you."

Frown deepening, Christine said, "Wow, _thanks _Meg."

"No, I don't mean it like that," Meg assured her. "I just mean, you're not really that nice to him a lot of the time and every time he tries to make plans with you you're unavailable. Maybe that's why he likes you. Maybe he likes girls who play hard-to-get. I've heard that all guys like girls who play hard-to-get, something about their competitive natures."

Rolling her eyes, Christine said, "Well, if that's true I guess we know why Erik didn't kiss me back and Raoul won't stop calling, huh?"

"It would really make perfect sense. We probably just discovered the secret to life."

"Drunk people always think they've discovered the secret to life, honey," Christine told her. "Now, let's get you back to your apartment."

Meg nodded her agreement, sighing and leaning up against Christine. "Did I ask you how work was tonight?"

Smiling slightly, Christine secured her arm around her friend's waist and reiterated her night in intimate detail as they made their way back to Meg's apartment.

* * *

**A/N:** Reviews make for an immensely happy writer! :)


	12. The World's Shortest Apartment Hunt

**A/N:** Hey guys! Thanks so much for the feedback! I saw a few new readers found the story—welcome aboard! :) And as always, thank you to the readers who have been with me on this story from the beginning. You guys are awesome. :)

* * *

-o- **Chapter 12 **-o-

* * *

Christine was in the middle of a very lovely dream when the creaking of her door startled her awake. Through her tightly closed eyelids she could see the form of her mother walking toward her, but she kept her eyes closed until it was impossible to ignore the women as she sat down on the edge of Christine's bed.

Sighing as the bed lightly sagged, Christine forced her eyes open and looked up into the brown eyes of her mother.

"I didn't hear you come in last night," she remarked.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Christine said, "Yeah, it was pretty late. I had to take Meg home and get her situated, then I had to give her back her dress and get one for tonight… and then try to talk her out of giving me the cleavage dress and failing miserably…"

Raising an eyebrow, Katherine said, "The cleavage dress?"

"It's just… not something I even want to think about right now," Christine stated, shaking her head. "You'll see it before I leave for work."

Smiling slightly, her mother said, "You've slept half the day away, thank heavens you've made it up in time to go to work."

As those words seeped into Christine's sleep fogged brain her eyes shot open and she sat straight up in bed, looking to her alarm clock, fearing that she had overslept. "Oh no, how long did I sleep?" Upon looking at the clock, she saw that it was already eleven o'clock. Groaning, she threw back the covers and said, "Mom, why did you let me sleep so late?"

"You work too hard, you needed the rest. Besides, you don't have to be at work until four."

"Yeah, but it's an hour into the city and I still have to get ready," Christine said, opening her closet and tugging the sexy red dress off the hanger. "I need a shower. I have to do my hair. Oh, I'm never going to make it in time!"

"Honey… you don't work until four."

"I have a music lesson," Christine stated. "I told him I was going to get there early."

"Who?"

Shaking her head, Christine said, "It doesn't matter. Look, I really need to get ready, so…"

"Fine," her mother said, shrugging. "Anyway, there's mail for you on the table."

"I don't have time for mail," she muttered, making her way into the bathroom to take the quickest shower of her life and then try to wrestle her hair into submission without being too late to make dinner for Erik.

To her credit, she moved like lightning, and by noon she was grabbing her coat and scarf and just about to slide them on when her mother came back in, her eyebrows merging with her hairline as she caught sight of Christine in the sultry dress and the sexy red high heels.

"_That's _what you wear to music lessons?"

Christine blushed a little, mostly because she had actually stopped arguing with Meg over her choice of dress for work that night specifically _because _she was going to Erik's and she wanted him to see her in it.

"It's what I'm wearing to work, but I have to squeeze it in where I can." Once her coat was on as she wrapped her scarf around herself, Christine picked up the envelope on the table with her name on it, tearing it open figuring she would just scan it real quick and see what it said.

By the time she was halfway through the letter, though, she felt her heart start racing and her eyes widen.

"I figured it was probably junk mail, but just in case I thought I'd save it for you."

"Oh my gosh," Christine said, shaking her head as she read the last lines and the turned the paper over as if looking for a catch. Instead of a catch there was another sheet of paper with a check attached.

"What is it?" Katherine asked.

"A scholarship," Christine stated simply. "It says that one of my teachers recommended me and I've been selected."

"Well, that's great, honey! You worked so hard filling out all those applications and essays—"

"This isn't one of those, I don't know what this is. I didn't apply for it."

Frowning a little, Katherine said, "Well, you better make sure it isn't fake. Does it say which teacher recommended you? You could ask them to verify."

Erik's words from the day before came floating back, the way he wrested the promise from her that if she got a scholarship, she would look into an apartment and she shook her head, amazed. "No, it doesn't say, but I have a pretty good idea. I'll find out if it's legit today, but I've gotta get going."

With a wave of her hand, Christine was out the door and on her way to Erik's.

-o-

Using Erik's exclusive elevator made Christine feel a little bit special, she realized as she stood inside, watching the floors light up as she approached Erik's floor.

The elevator doors opened and she stepped forward, approaching Erik's door and rapping on it, then stepping back slightly and glancing down at the wind-wrinkled envelope in her hand. She wanted to open it and read it again, but first she wanted Erik to verify he really had recommended her for a scholarship.

When he opened the door donned in a pair of jeans and a black button down shirt, it took her off guard. Every time she saw Erik he was dressed in pressed black slacks and more formal looking clothes, so to see him in jeans threw her a little.

Especially considering she would have to take her coat off once inside—she was already warm—and then he would see her provocative dress.

He smiled when he saw her and invited her in, offering to take her coat.

Before she gave him the coat, she held up the letter. "Did you do this?"

"Do what?" he asked almost innocently.

"I got a letter in the mail that I got a ten thousand dollar scholarship. It says that if I choose a major within the music department I'm eligibly for another _five thousand_, and I never applied for this scholarship. I've never even heard of it."

Smiling a little, he said vaguely, "Yes, I might've recommended you. You needed the money and you're deserving, so I see no problem. Does this mean you'll be apartment hunting?"

"Did you know about this already?"

"I suspected. Are you going to keep that coat on, or may I take it?"

_Ever the consummate gentleman_, she thought ironically as she shrugged, unwrapping her little scarf first and handing it to him, then unbuttoning her coat and allowing him to tug it off her shoulders. Despite herself, a little smile tugged at her mouth once the coat was off and she smoothed the dress a little bit and then turned around, feeling instantly gratified as Erik's gaze moved over her as if he couldn't stop himself. The knot was designed to intentionally draw the eye to the breasts, and that was precisely what it did.

Christine made a mental note to thank Meg for insisting on the dress later.

When Erik continued to stare at her, the coat slung over his unmoving arm, she blushed a little bit, but still smiled pleasantly. Feeling a little bit devious, she did a little spin, letting the dress lightly fan out as she moved and then turning to face him again, saying, "Do you like my dress?"

Slanting a rather accusing glance at her, he said, "I do have a pulse, Christine."

Well, he wasn't calling her Miss Daaé to remind her of her position; that was something at least.

Grinning, she said, "Glad to hear it."

Shaking his head, he finally pulled his gaze away and walked away muttering something that sounded like, "You're trying to get me in trouble."

"Never," she replied innocently.

Leveling her a more unbelieving glance, he turned away, hanging her coat up and then turning back to her. "You never answered my question."

"What question?"

"Are you and Meg going to look for apartments now? I do remember you saying you would if you got a scholarship when I asked before."

Blushing slightly, she said, "Well, yeah, but… I mean, I didn't _actually _expect to get one. I'll look into it, but I don't want to spend all of my scholarship money on an apartment either. I'll have to see if we can find something really cheap. If we're looking at two grand or more a month, I still can't really afford it."

"Well, I'm sure you can find some cheaper apartments, but only if they're in a safe neighborhood."

"Yes boss," she said, her tone lightly teasing.

"I'm entitled to look after your well-being."

"Oh, are you?" she returned, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," he answered simply.

As if on cue, her coat pocket made a musical little chime. Realizing she had left her phone in the coat, she walked over and extracted the phone, opening up the new text message, smiling a little, and then pushing reply and typing back a quick message.

Frowning slightly, Erik watched Christine type.

Feeling his questioning gaze, her own eyebrows lifted. "Sorry; my friend."

His gaze darkened, and she felt a little bit of satisfaction. The message was from Meg, but she had been purposely coy enough with her expression to make him think it was Raoul.

"Doesn't he know better than to interrupt your music lessons?"

"We aren't having a music lesson yet," Christine pointed out.

"That's irrelevant. That's what you're here for. I won't have the boy interrupting our music lessons, Christine."

He kept his voice level, but she could _feel _his irritation emanating from his person in waves. For someone who 'didn't care' he certainly was aggravated at the thought of Raoul sending her messages that made her smile and respond to them even in Erik's presence…

Meg's words—however drunken—came back to Christine, pointing out Raoul's attraction to her and how maybe it stemmed from how unattainable she was for him. Could she provoke a response out of Erik by using a similar tactic? Whether he admitted it or not, the man seemed jealous…

When she didn't respond, he said, "Christine, I am serious."

"So, what are you saying, Erik? No boys allowed if I want you to train my voice?"

He hesitated for a moment, frowning slightly, and then a bit reluctantly, said, "I didn't say that… although it probably wouldn't hurt. While you're with me, I would prefer if you wouldn't talk to the boy. What you do on your own time is none of my concern."

His response inspired only irritation in Christine and even though she didn't mean to, she snapped, "If I were _with you _then you wouldn't have to worry about me talking to Raoul. Since I'm not, I'll do whatever the hell I want with him, _whenever _I want to do it."

Erik looked vaguely surprised, but before he could utter even a word Christine was making her way into his kitchen to go about gathering some cooking supplies.

-o-

Over the course of the next week, little changed unless you counted the increasing level of stifled frustration that seemed to envelope Christine every single moment that she was around Erik—and since she was around him so much, that was pretty much her normal state.

Erik continued to ignore the underlying intolerance that Christine was beginning to emanate in his presence, and Christine grew more irritable with each passing day. The fact that he invaded her sleep on a regular basis didn't really help matters, as she wasn't sleeping overly well, and the frustration of her feelings was beyond all tolerance. She _liked _Erik, and she knew that he liked her. The stubborn man may not want to admit it, but she could tell. If he didn't like her, he wouldn't be so averse to the idea of her dating Raoul—not that she was dating Raoul, but she had stopped reassuring Erik of that. On Friday she even took it a step further—Raoul had offered to meet Christine after class so they could have lunch before she went to work, and she agreed, telling him to meet her outside of her music theory class.

Just to ensure that Erik saw Raoul, Christine had grinned and waved at Raoul as she gathered up her things, allowing Erik enough time to look and see who she was waving at, and then she shoved her bag on her shoulder and—without even saying goodbye to Erik—made her way over to Raoul.

If he wanted to continue to ignore the attraction between them, she would torture the damn man just like he tortured her.

On Saturday she showed up to her second private lesson of the week, but before she even removed her coat, Erik was approaching her and saying, "Before we start out lesson, I want to show you something."

With her coat half off her arms, she raised her eyebrows. "Should I take my coat off?"

"You can," he said, nodding. "We're not leaving the building, only going to the floor below."

"Is that your apartment, too?" she asked in disbelief.

Smiling slightly, he said, "No, I only live on this floor. There's a two bedroom apartment for rent; this is a safe neighborhood, close to your school, you wouldn't even have to leave the building for school. I can think of nowhere safer for you to live."

Coming to a halt, her eyes widened and she said, "You want me to live in _your _apartment building? That really seems like a good idea to you?"

"Yes," he said simply, as if that made sense.

"Even if I thought that seemed like a good idea, there's no way I can afford an apartment in this building. Yes, I would have Meg to split costs with, but I've seen your apartment, Erik. It's far outside of my price range."

"This one isn't," he said dismissively. "It's very inexpensive, I daresay you won't find a cheaper apartment in the entire city."

Frowning, she said, "How much?"

"The cost would be $900 a month, utilities included."

"Very funny; how much?"

"I'm not joking," he told her, absently placing his hand at the small of her back to urge her out into the hallway.

He pulled his hand way after only a split second, realizing what he had done, but Christine could still feel the warmth from where he had touched her, and it caused her irritation to spike almost unreasonably.

"There's no way that a two bedroom apartment in even a dangerous location would be that cheap and include utilities, so how did I get so lucky?"

"You must have a guardian angel," he said dryly as they stepped into the elevator.

"One that gets me dream jobs, sizeable scholarships, and unrealistically cheap apartments?"

He ignored her, pushing the button and watching the doors close. "The apartment has a six-month lease. As with every other unit in this building, regular visits are made by the exterminator—completely preventative, as in all the years I have lived here I have only seen one spider. The owner of the building pays for that, so you don't have to worry about it. It's very spacious, particularly by New York standards. Unfortunately this particular unit does not have the views my apartment has since it doesn't take up an entire floor like my apartment does, but you have a view of the street from the bathroom and one of the bedrooms." The elevator doors opened and they stepped out into the hallway, Erik leading the way as he walked to the very last door on the right side of the hallway. "You would be more than welcome to use my elevator, as well as Meg, but I would ask that you refrain from giving my code to any visitors you might have. They can use the main elevator."

"I wouldn't give your code out," Christine informed him.

Behind them, one of the apartment doors opened an a young man in a designer suit stepped out, briefcase in one hand and speaking rapidly into his cell phone… in another language.

Christine cast a questioning glance at Erik.

Smiling slightly, he said, "This building is mostly inhabited by business professionals of varying ages. We have everything from studios to three bedroom apartments, so you're as likely to see an ambitious young professional speaking to an associate in Japan," he said, indicating the man heading for the main elevator, "or a nanny taking care of the kids while the lady of the house is having a spa treatment."

"Like I said, this building isn't within my price range. I don't believe you about the price."

Erik merely shook his head, taking a key out of his pocket and opening the apartment door. "There are security cameras in the hallway, but there has only been one failed attempt at a break-in since the building was erected, so it isn't something that we worry about very much."

"Considering I would live, work, _and _take my music lessons in the building, I would scarcely need to leave. Tell me, is the floor below this secretly an off campus section of Columbia's music department?"

Smiling, Erik said, "I'm afraid not. I can't think of _everything_."

"More's the pity," she replied lightly. "How about a grocery store? Do you have a grocery store hidden in the building somewhere, too?"

"No, but we do have a five-star restaurant in the basement," he stated ironically. "I figured you might want to leave the building occasionally to see the city you live in."

Grinning, she said, "It would be nice to live in…" Trailing off as Erik switched on the lights, she forgot what she had been saying and stared, dumb-founded, at the apartment before her. Upon entering the apartment, they ended up in a little hallway with just a wall to the left, but to the right there was an open arch into the living room. Once illuminated, Christine was able to make out the fairly high ceilings—though not as high as Erik's—and the plush neutral carpeting.

The living room was enormous, especially by New York's standards where a living room frequently consisted of a small loveseat and a 19 inch television on a stand crammed impossibly between the kitchen area and the hallway. In Meg's apartment, for example, if Christine were to lie down in the floor and reach out her arms, she would be lying the entire length of the living room. If she got into the same position in the apartment Erik was showing her, she could invite about 15 friends to do the same thing.

On top of being impossibly large, the room was already furnished and decorated—pastel covered canvases hung on the wall that off to her right, a nice large sofa that was white and soft-looking propped up against it, a little coffee table with a lamp and plenty of space for something else was wedged into the corner next to it, and across from the couch sat two white sitting chairs, another coffee table placed between them, a little white bouquet of flowers adorning the top. Even with all the furnishings, there was still plenty of room in the living room alone. Further along the wall closer to the three wooden doors that she assumed must be the bedrooms and bathroom, there was also a little wooden desk with a matching chair, a white desk light sitting on top of it as if waiting for a student.

Turning to look back at where Erik was still standing in the archway, she noticed another door between the archway and the living room that she had missed.

"What's in there?"

"The bodies," he replied gravely.

Grinning, she began walking over there. "Fine, don't tell me." Peering inside, she saw a gray-hued bathroom with a sink to her immediate right, a toilet, and a little shower stall.

"I don't see a view," she stated, stepping back outside.

Shaking his head, Erik gestured to the middle door along the back wall. "That bathroom and its adjoining bedroom have the view."

"This place is _amazing_, Erik."

"I'm glad you like it," he replied. "You could bring Meg by whenever, but I'm sure she'll like it, too. It's a very nice apartment, especially for the price and location."

"It's _too _nice for the price and location," she stated suspiciously. "How exactly is this apartment so cheap?"

"Let's check out the bedrooms, shall we?" he asked.

Narrowing her eyes as he evaded her question again, she said, "Why Erik, I thought you'd never ask."

He slanted her a dry look but she merely shot him an innocent little grin.

The first door he opened was the room without the view, and he gave her a cursory glance of the hardwood floor with the area rug, the queen sized bed, the purple walls, and the walk-in closet that he told her about but didn't show her.

"This would probably be your room," he stated as he led her out of that bedroom and into the one with the view. "I like this one better, plus it has the view and its own bathroom."

She definitely liked that one better. The walls were sort of a burnt brownish orange color, there was a huge window to the right with a really nice city view and the room seemed almost… sensual. Like the other bedroom, it had hardwood floors, but it was covered mostly by a thick Persian rug which was situated under the bed. There was a golden chaise at the edge of the bed with a tasseled red pillow on top, an intricately designed lamp hanging above. The bed sat behind it, made up in burgundy and gold, and there was a gauzy canopy of deep red hanging from the ceiling back along the wall, draping down until it disappeared behind the bed. To the right side sat a little end table, and on the opposite side of the bed hung a large gilt mirror. Further to the left there was a burgundy upholstered chair with a golden coverlet over the back, and two doors—on to the left, one to the right. Opening the one to the right she saw a bathroom with a small window view, decorated in burgundy and gold, and the other door was a large walk-in closet complete with a little upholstered bench in the middle to sit on in case you got tired of looking at all your clothes. Along the back wall there was a mirror with three lights above it.

Stepping back into the bedroom—and bumping into Erik—she took another look around and stated, "I feel like I'm in a harem."

Smiling slightly, Erik said, "It does have a bit of a harem feel, doesn't it?"

Quirking an eyebrow, she said, "Have you _been _in a harem?"

His smile deepened at the note of disapproval in her tone, but he merely glanced around the bedroom. "Of course, the décor could easily be changed if you didn't like it."

"Question—why is 'my' bedroom furnished and even made up as if I could hop in and sleep here tonight, but the other bedroom just has a bare white mattress?"

Shrugging guilelessly, he replied, "Who knows? At any rate, do you like it?"

"I love it. I still don't believe it's only $900 a month though. Who is this owner and when do I get to see him?"

"As it happens, you only need the apartment manager to be present to sign off on an agreement, not the owner. His name is Bill Wilkins and he lives on the second floor. If you want the apartment, you have only to show up, sign your name to the rental agreement, and then you're ready to move in."

"And Bill Wilkins is going to tell me the same thing? That it's $900 a month?"

"I'm quite certain Bill Wilkins will tell you precisely that if you ask."

Shaking her head in disbelief, she said, "Did the last occupants turn it into a meth lab or something? It just doesn't make sense."

"Never question good fortune," he advised. "I assume you would need to bring Meg through before signing?"

Nodding absently, she said, "As a formality, I guess. I could probably bring her through tomorrow—do you think we would be able to go through it again tomorrow?"

"Certainly."

"And why do you have the key? Shouldn't Bill Wilkins be doing this?"

"I'm fairly certain that I've been here long enough that they don't expect me to run off with the key. Moreover, I have no reason to; this is a nice apartment and rather large, but mine is nicer _and _larger with a better view. I don't have apartment envy."

"Apartment snob," she joked. "My apartment could kick your apartment's ass."

Erik's lips quirked upward in amusement. "You haven't even _seen _all of my apartment, how could you know that?"

"You're right, I haven't. Why don't we skip the music lesson today and you can show me _your _bedroom?" she suggested with a mockingly innocent smile.

"I don't think so," he replied, shaking his head.

Sighing heavily, she said with mock solemnity, "I knew I should have worn the other dress."

"I don't think your _friend _would appreciate that very much," Erik informed her.

Losing her light mood, she scowled.

Erik smiled, as if he appreciated knocking the smile right out of her teasing tone.

Inwardly bristling a little, she said, "You're right; I'm sure he would much prefer to give me a tour of _his _bedroom."

To her satisfaction, Erik's jaw visibly clenched and his hand even fisted, almost unconsciously.

"Let's go see the kitchen," she said easily, stepping out of the bedroom and waiting for Erik to follow her.

-o-

That night after work, instead of going home, she went over to Meg's. It was a long ride home, and not one she was looking forward to, but given further thought, she wondered if it would be a better idea to just stay over at Meg's, take her to see the apartment the next morning, and then head home to do a little homework before heading back into the city for work. It was really too bad she hadn't brought some of her homework, then she could have just stayed in the city all day.

Of course, if she and Meg moved into that apartment together, she would be able to do her homework and stay in the city all the time.

The apartment still seemed too good to be true. Even though she couldn't come up with a realistic, logical explanation, she couldn't help noticing the relation between her luck increasing at impossible levels, and meeting Erik. Logically she realized that it couldn't be Erik's fault that everything was suddenly falling into her lap, but at the same time, looking at the time line, none of the good stuff had ever happened _before _she met him.

It was odd, and only reinforced the feeling that he was something like a guardian angel—not in the literal sense, of course, as she was all too aware of his being a man.

An irritating, obstinate, wonderful man.

Before she was even able to knock on Meg's door for a second time, the door flung open and Meg put a finger to her lips rather severely.

"Sorry," Christine whispered.

With an even lower whisper, Meg said, "My possessed roommate isn't feeling well and she needs absolute silence to sleep well. I tried to tell her that maybe she wouldn't get sick if she would _digest _her food, but she didn't seem to find it very funny."

"Hey, I've come at a good time then," Christine said with a little smile. "I take it you're fed up with your roommate?"

"You know those internet postings that are thinly veiled 'have sex with me and I will let you live in my apartment' propositions? I'm seriously considering looking into them."

Smiling a little, Christine said, "Well, you don't have to have sex with me, but what do you think about maybe moving in together?"

"What?" Meg exclaimed, forgetting to be quiet until Christine shushed her. Eyes wide, Meg whispered, "You better not be playing with me right now, woman. You've been telling me you can't afford it."

"Well, I couldn't, but with that scholarship Erik helped me get, I have a little bit more money, and there just so happens to be this really nice two bedroom apartment available in Erik's building, and get this—it's only 900 a month."

Blinking, Meg said, "I'm sorry, I think I heard you wrong… I thought you said…"

Nodding knowingly, Christine said, "That was my response, too, but Erik swears up and down that it's 900 a month—and utilities are included in that price, everything but cable and landline, but we both have cell phones, so we don't need that, and really, how much tv do we watch?"

Frowning, Meg said, "Is this one of those have-sex-with-someone deals to get cheap rent?"

"I'm pretty sure if it required sex, Erik wouldn't have suggested it," Christine said dryly.

"Maybe he likes boys," Meg suggested sympathetically.

"No, I'm pretty sure he likes girls, he's just… more stubborn than any other person who's ever existed. The point is, he took me through this apartment today, Meg, and it is _amazing_. It makes this place look like a closet _and _a dump. We both have walk-in closets, it's two bedrooms, two bathrooms, it's already _furnished_. We will probably never find another apartment like this under four or five grand a month… well, ever again."

"And he's sure that it's only 900? That doesn't sound right."

Shrugging, Christine said, "Erik seems to be capable of making anything possible."

"What is he, God?"

"Maybe," Christine replied with a nod. "I mean, at the very least, he's probably one of the head angels."

"He certainly is making your life cushier," Meg admitted, a bit contemplative. "It just does _not _make sense that he isn't trying to sleep with you. More than that, he's rejecting your advances. It doesn't make sense. Why do all of this for you if not for sex?"

"I know, right," Christine said, rolling her eyes. "Just when you _want _a guy to be typical, he isn't. You better believe if I had a professor I _didn't _want to be lecherous, he'd be all over me."

"That's how it always works. Did I tell you Conor quit talking to me?"

"Did he? He didn't seem happy after the night at the bar."

"Yeah," Meg said, shrugging. "William called me though. Funny thing is, I barely _remember _him. According to him, I agreed to go to dinner with him to some little restaurant in the east village he was telling me about."

"You probably did. You were all over him because he spoke with an accent and called you 'love.'"

"Hey, women for many years before me have done stupider things when some dashing Brit threw that word around at them in a bar."

"Definitely true. You might have been one of them if I hadn't come to your rescue."

"You will always be my knight in shining armor, Christine," Meg declared.

"And you will always be my damsel in distress," Christine returned easily, grinning at her friend. "You notice how we're not being quiet anymore?"

Rolling her eyes, Meg said, "Please, she can bite me. I'm moving in with my best friend."

Grinning, Christine said, "We have to go through the apartment before we decide for sure, but at this point it's a formality. I know you're going to love it."

"I can't wait. Do I finally get to meet the Naughty Professor?"

"Not if you insist on calling him that," Christine stated. "I've already had to call in to question your skills at discretion."

Gasping, Meg dramatically clutched her heart and said, "I can totally be discreet, just not so much when I have 10 gallons of alcohol coursing through my veins."

"Well, in the interest of you not dying, you should probably refrain from doing that again."

"No kidding. I felt like someone had killed me twice the following day. Oh! Speaking of health, does his building have a fitness center?"

Nodding, Christine said, "The basement is obviously the restaurant where I work, then the main floor where the lobby is has a fitness center, a little lounge, a mail room, and a Panera Bread bakery-café."

"No way," Meg said, wide eyed. "Is there a Disneyland on the second floor?"

"Nope. Sadly the building designer seems to have forgotten both Disneyland and a Columbia campus. Erik said they _do _have laundry facilities on every few floors, though—that's the only thing that sucks; we don't have in-unit laundry in our apartment."

"I'm pretty sure I can handle that," Meg assured her friend. "This place sounds great."

"Wait until you see it. My bedroom looks like a harem."

"You already picked your bedroom?"

"Well, actually Erik kind of assigned me a bedroom. If you don't like the other bedroom though, you can have it."

Grinning, Meg said, "Nonsense. If Erik assigned you a bedroom, I imagine you have to take it."

"Listen, would you mind if I crash here tonight so we can go look at the apartment in the morning?"

"Not at all," Meg assured her. "How soon before we can move in?"

"Erik said all we have to do is sign the paper and we could move in as soon as this week."

"How does Erik know so much if he's just a tenant?"

"I can't know for sure, but I assume that he is probably all-knowing," Christine stated solemnly.

"I don't think I'd want to date someone who's all-knowing."

"Well, it's a good thing you won't be dating Erik then," Christine said lightly.

"Oh, speaking of people we're not dating—what are you doing about Raoul? The guy obviously likes you, and you obviously like Erik…"

"And Erik obviously doesn't want to date me," Christine reminded her friend, rolling her eyes slightly. "I'm not doing anything about Raoul until I have to; right now I am enjoying being single and that means I am entitled to talk to Raoul or anyone else I want to talk to casually."

"Well, now that Conor and I aren't talking anymore, I don't know how often I'll be hanging out to act as your buffer. The guy's bound to start getting impatient about the progress of your relationship here eventually."

"There's no progress, there's no relationship; Meg, I just said we're only friends."

"You and I are friends, and we don't kiss."

"Are you jealous?" Christine joked. "Because maybe after we move in together, I can give you a little extra affection if you're feeling left out."

Rolling her eyes, Meg shrugged and said, "Fine, we won't talk about it. Just don't come whining to me when Raoul thinks you're entering girlfriend territory and you don't want to."

"If I don't come whining to you, who will I whine to?"

After a brief pause, Meg nodded. "You make a good point. Fine, I guess you can come whining to me, but I'm definitely going to say 'I told you so.'"

"Okay, that's fine," Christine said. "In the meantime, could you get me some pajamas? I'm exhausted."

"Of course, future roommate," Meg replied brightly, practically skipping down the hall to her room.

* * *

**A/N:** If I'm not mistaken, the next chapter should be a fairly juicy one. :) Reviews = food for author! :) Please and thank you!


	13. Revelations and Surprise Visitors

**A/N:** Bonjour! Thanks ever so much for the great feedback! Your reviews had me ear-to-ear grinning! Lots of helpful details about what you liked! I was so pleased/inspired! Loved them. Thanks so much! :)

Hope you enjoy! It's a little shorter, but it was necessary-and I got it out a mere 24 hours later. :) I figured a little shorter was acceptable if it was updated so immediately.

* * *

**-o- Chapter 13 -o-**

* * *

As predicted, Meg fell deeply in love with the apartment and even flopped down on her uncovered new mattress with a little squeal to prove it.

Erik watched, quite amused, and Christine explained as patiently as any indulgent parent, "Sometimes she just has to squeal when she's excited."

The apartment manager, Bill Wilkins, _did _exist; he showed up at their future apartment with the appropriate papers for them to sign and he pointed out the eight thousand places for them to sign while Erik supervised.

Just before applying the last signature, Meg paused with her pen a few inches above the paper and asked Bill, "And you're sure the apartment is only 900 a month?"

Although he nodded, neither girl missed his gaze momentarily jump to Erik, as if seeking permission to agree to such a ridiculous rate.

Just as quickly, his gaze jerked away and he smiled, saying, "You had the good luck to come across this apartment during our fall special—unbelievably good deals."

"Like the Black Friday of apartments?" Meg questioned.

"Sure, yes, exactly like that," he replied easily.

"Except before Thanksgiving and for no apparent reason?" she concluded sweetly.

His smile waned, and he shrugged. "What can I say, the owner is eccentric."

"I'll just bet he is," Christine stated, even less convinced that Erik had nothing to do with it than she had been before.

Once they finished signing the appropriate paperwork, Bill Wilkins took the papers and looked pretty pleased to be leaving, which left Meg and Christine in their new apartment with Erik.

"Well, you guys should be able to move in whenever you would like to. If you need any help moving your things in, I'll be glad to help or arrange for someone else to."

"You sure are helpful," Meg told him, smiling. "Tell you what, for all your kindness, I'm pretty sure we owe you lunch. Are you free now? Your pick."

"Lunch?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Meg returned brightly.

His gaze flicked a bit uncertainly to Christine.

Seeing that, Meg added, "I mean, it's all three of us, so it wouldn't be inappropriate. Not that it would be inappropriate without me—and not that_ you_ would do anything inappropriate, I'm just—"

"Meg," Christine interrupted, lifting a hand to her forehead, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "Just stop talking."

Sighing, Meg said, "Whatever, the point is, you obviously had a hand in getting us this apartment, so why don't you let us buy you lunch?"

"I agree," Christine seconded.

A little hesitantly, Erik said, "Well, I could probably do a quick lunch… I have to meet with Nadir this afternoon, but I have a little time before. We could go to the café downstairs," he suggested.

"Okay, that's fine, but _you _are not paying," Christine stipulated firmly. "_We _are treating you to lunch."

With a mysterious little smile, Erik said, "I promise I will not even _think _of paying."

"Very good," she said, nodding her approval.

They made another little loop around the apartment, Meg and Christine happily exchanging ideas about what—if any—new furnishings they might need, then they left the apartment and Erik handed Christine the key, informing them he would have one made for Meg that afternoon.

Once in the hallway, Erik explained to Meg about the private elevator and its rules of use, then all three of them stepped inside and went down to the café in the lobby.

"So, I've only been here once," Christine informed them as they entered the bustling little café. "I really liked the soup, and the French bread here is like a little taste of heaven."

"Indeed," Erik agreed. "Nearly as good as bread _in _France."

Shaking her head, Christine said, "You _would _have to brag that you've been to France."

His lips curved upward again. "I'm sure you'll make it to France, too, so don't get travel envy."

"Oh, of course," she relied, feigning a haughtier air than was natural. "I was just thinking of going there next week to do some shopping."

"You _need _to do some shopping," Meg interrupted. "As nicely as you fill out my dresses, you should have some of your own."

"I have a nice dress," Christine defended. "And you've never complained about me borrowing yours before. Are you going to be finicky now that we're living together?"

"You need more than one. You have a job now that actually _requires _you to dress nice," Meg informed her friend, lifting an eyebrow.

"Meg's right," Erik agreed with a small nod, his hands shoved casually in his pockets. "You should have some nice dresses of your own."

Grinning, Meg said, "I knew I'd like him."

"Hey, I'm getting double teamed here!" Christine objected.

"Meredith has a shopping addiction; employees at her favorite stores practically _give _her clothing. You two seemed to get along well, perhaps you could accompany her on one of her shopping forays," Erik suggested.

"Oh, I don't know if she'd want to take me on a shopping trip—we only met once."

Dismissing the idea, Erik replied, "Nonsense, she would enjoy the company. You'll need a new gown for the opera anyway, if you still wanted to go."

Having almost completely forgotten about the "field trip" opera he had invited her to, the one Luciana was going to be in, Christine was a bit startled. "Yeah, I still want to go. Um… I don't really know what to wear…"

"Meredith will help you pick something out," he told her easily. "You won't pay for that gown, it'll be by my treat."

"Erik…"

"You know how futile arguing with me is, Christine," he stated, shaking his head. "I'm not paying for the tickets, you can at least let me pay for the dress."

"Well, if I don't, you'll find a way to make me feel guilty about it, so I'll agree, but I'm not getting an expensive gown."

"Damn, I wish I had your problems," Meg told Christine, rolling her eyes.

"Be careful what you wish for," Christine muttered.

"But seriously," Meg stated, her voice taking on what Christine instantly recognized as her 'studious tone,' Meg went on, "Erik's not that far off his mark, he's just in the wrong century. Back in the day, when students were taught directly under master artists, it wasn't unheard of for teachers to indulge their pupils. Why, Leonardo Di Vinci himself brought pupils to live with him, to learn from him, and it was definitely not unheard of for the pupils to be indulged a bit with clothes and similar gifts. The one student lived with him, for, God, I don't know, something like 30 years? He actually left the Mona Lisa to him, and the student had her until he died."

"What a teacher," Christine remarked.

"Yep. Of course," Meg concluded innocently, "they were usually lovers, too." Missing only a beat, she said, "Mmm, that soup looks good."

Attempting to bite back a smile as her friend innocently flitted away to examine the menu, Christine turned to gauge Erik's reaction.

He merely lifted an eyebrow, a very small smile on his lips. "I take it you've shared with Meg."

"She knows how I embarrassed myself at the club, if that's what you mean," Christine said vaguely. "Don't worry, she isn't going to say anything."

Erik didn't respond, but he didn't appear to be worried, either, so Christine didn't bother offering more assurances. A moment later, they were ready to order, and they were greeted enthusiastically by the previously droning cashier. Christine noticed the way the girl's attention kept jumping back to Erik, a huge, fake smile on her face, even when she was taking Meg's order.

Handing them three clear cups, she said, "Okay, those will be right up. You can grab some drinks while you wait, and would you like a bakery item for dessert?"

"Cheese Danish," Erik stated.

"Of course. And for you two?" she asked, glancing at Christine, then to Meg.

"No thanks," Christine replied.

"None for me either," Meg said, holding up her credit card expectantly. "Total?"

Looking a little confused, the cashier looked questioningly at Erik.

Offering Christine a smug little smirk, he said, "I don't pay here either. Grab your cups, we're holding up the line."

Stealing a glance back at the impatient looking line of people, Christine merely fixed Erik with a withering look and then picked up her cup, walking down toward the beverage dispenser.

"Why did we just get free lunch?" Meg asked, confused.

"Because Erik mysteriously _always _gets free meals when he eats in this building," Christine stated, the suspicions and little puzzle pieces she had been gathering clicking together in a most unquestionable way. Turning back to Erik, she said, "Do you _own _this entire building?"

For the briefest of moment he hesitated, then with an almost guilty sigh he nodded. "I built it."

"And you own it," she reiterated, nodding.

"I do."

"So you've been lying to me?"

"No," he said quickly. "I have not lied, I've simply… left things out."

"A clever way of lying," she informed him, shaking her head. "So none of this is a coincidence or a stroke of luck, is it? You've arranged for all of it, you've made it all happen—and everyone _else _knows, which is why my boss treats me like a cherished guest every night instead of an employee. Is it even a real job, or are _you _paying me to sit at the piano every weekend?"

"I'm not paying you; Firmin pays you."

"Do you own the restaurant, too?" Christine asked, the idea just occurring to her.

"No," he said carefully. "I own… the building the restaurant is in, and… a small share of the company itself, but I do not _own _it in its entirety."

Shaking her head in disbelief, she said, "Next thing I know you'll be telling me my 'scholarship' came out of your personal bank account."

She had expected him to deny it, but she had not expected the momentary hesitation _before _he said, "No, of course it didn't."

Meg had just selected a seat and the cashier girl brought over Erik's cheese pastry, flashing them a smile and saying, "Can I get you anything else?"

Nodding vigorously, Meg said, "Popcorn."

Momentarily, the cashier looked confused again.

Offering her a slight smile, Erik said, "We're fine, thanks."

Gaping, Christine said, "Erik, how much did you have to do with my getting that scholarship?"

"I assure you, it did not come out of my personal account, all right? It is a legitimate scholarship from a legitimate business, I merely recommended that you receive it."

Luckily for him, the little buzzer went off, alerting them that their food was already done.

"I'll grab that," Erik said, taking the buzzer off the table and heading toward the counter.

"I'll help," Christine said, but before she could fully get to her feet Meg was pushing her back in her seat.

Checking to make sure Erik was far enough away that he wouldn't hear, Meg said, "_I _will help him. You sit here and cool your heels; the guy is all but your fairy godmother, and while his methods may have been imperfect, his motives were pure. Whatever reason he has for doing all of this for you, it goes beyond lust or any reasonable level of a charitable nature. He cares about you. A lot. Don't yell at him for it."

Christine's jaw went slack as her best friend finished delivering her lecture, and she could only stare as Meg went up to help Erik retrieve their lunch trays.

-o-

Since Erik's demands were _always _met in a timely manner, Meredith Destler showed up outside of Christine and Meg's new apartment in the middle of the week, a smile on her stunning face and a cheesecake in her hands.

"Hey, neighbor!" Meredith greeted. "I know we live in the city, so we're supposed to be very disinterested in our neighbors and never bring baked goods, but I figure since you and my brother are close, we should establish more of a friendship than that. Also, in case you've heard of my inferior culinary abilities, you should know I did not bake this cheesecake, I merely purchased it from a bakery."

Grinning and stepping back to invite Meredith inside, Christine said, "I believe Erik did mention something about you trying to burn his kitchen down last Christmas."

Rolling her eyes, Meredith said airily, "An exaggeration, I assure you. Erik's only so persnickety about it because _he _can cook better than I can. Actually, he can do practically everything better than I can; a lesser sibling would have been peeved about it, but I just love him too much."

Nodding sympathetically, Christine said, "I understand."

Meredith's gaze snapped to Christine's face as she arched an eyebrow. "Really?"

Realizing how it sounded, Christine flushed, saying, "About siblings—you know, sibling rivalry and all that."

"Oh, right," Meredith replied, nodding. "Did you say you have siblings?"

"No," Christine said lamely.

Biting her lip to control her smile, Meredith said, "Oh, I see. So, where should I…?"

"Oh!" Realizing Meredith was still holding the cheesecake, she chuckled, a little embarrassed. "Sorry, I'm easily distracted. Um, I'll take that, thank you."

While Christine took the cheese cake in to the kitchen, Meredith stayed behind in the living room, looking around and checking everything out.

"Nice place," she remarked when Christine rejoined her there.

"Thanks. It really is great. So, is this the floor you live on, too? Erik didn't mention…"

"Nope," Meredith said, shaking her head. "I'm a floor down. Erik told me he's taking you to an opera?"

"Yeah," Christine said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and nodding. "I guess one of his former pupils is performing in the opera and she gave him tickets, so he offered to take me as sort of a field trip."

"Right, a field trip," Meredith drawled slyly. "I understand I'm also supposed to take you shopping to pick out a dress for the opera?"

"You don't have to do that—I told Erik it was unnecessary, but I'm sure you know how well he listens."

"About as well as a rock," she stated, nodding. "Anyway, of course we'll go shopping together; I love to shop, and it'll give us a chance to get to know each other a little better since our dinner got interrupted."

"Yeah, that was… awkward."

"No worries," Meredith replied lightly. "Clandestine relationships always come with their drawbacks, but they can also be exciting, hm?"

Jerking a startled gaze to Meredith's dancing eyes, Christine's eyes went wide and she said, "Oh no, Erik and I aren't having a clandestine relationship—he's just my teacher, that's all."

"And I'm the queen of Spain," Meredith stated. "I'm the last person in the world you have to hide this from; I want my brother to have some happiness after the crumby hand he's been dealt in life. He's known too little affection in his life, and I just find it appalling—Erik is _such _a wonderful person, and he doesn't deserve to be alone."

Softening, Christine said, "I assure you, I could not agree with you more. It's not… me, it's him. I have… expressed my interest in him, but he has assured me that it's not going to happen."

"Was this before or after he moved you into the apartment below his?" Meredith asked rhetorically.

"That's a living arrangement, nothing more."

"And the opera? Merely a field trip. What about the job? His distaste for the male friend that caused you to leave dinner so abruptly?"

"I know how it looks," Christine told her. "It's just not how it is."

"Because he's denying you his affections?" Meredith asked, a frown marring her lovely porcelain skin. "Bloody hell, my brother is obnoxious when he wants to be."

Biting back a grin, Christine said, "I'm inclined to agree."

Shaking her head, she said, "He obviously likes you, or he wouldn't be doing all of this. You obviously like him…"

"Very much," Christine agreed when Meredith cast a speculative glance her way.

"Hm. Well. Sometimes my brother just requires a bit of gentle nudging. Luckily, I have his credit card and this perfect canvas in front of me," she said, leveling an appraising glance over Christine's entire figure.

"What are you thinking?" Christine asked cautiously.

"I'm thinking that my brother is very responsive underneath that veneer of chilly implacability he wears so well. He's probably pretty close to snapping since _I _could tell how much he hated your handsome young friend… There is nothing going on there, right? I wouldn't want to encourage this if you weren't genuinely interested in my brother. He's had enough experience with bitchy little divas who sought only to enhance their own vanity by capturing his elusive affections, I don't know that he would do so well experiencing the same thing twice."

"I'm not toying with him," Christine said, wide eyed. "Raoul's… an old friend, and my life would go on even if I never saw him again as a friend. Erik is the one I'm interested in, but I told you, he won't pursue a relationship with me. The teacher-student thing—"

"Bullshit," Meredith said dismissively. "He doesn't even _need _that job, and he was involved with a student before. Those are excuses. You probably scare him."

Choking, Christine said, "_Me_, scare _Erik_? What could I possibly do to him?"

"More than you think," Meredith stated solemnly. "Most people… love easily, and for those people, losing the object of their affection is painful, but survivable. My brother is… different. He's more passionate in his affections than most people, sometimes even a little overwhelming, but it's because of how rarely he bestows it upon someone. Since he rarely ever loves anyone, when he _does _love, it's not in half measures, not by any means."

"Is that a bad thing?" Christine asked, confused. "I would think having someone passionately devoted to you would be a _good _thing."

"It can be, but for some people it can be… smothering, overwhelming. If you've noticed, Erik has overtaken a significant chunk of your life and you're not even dating him right now. Can you even _imagine _how much more of it he would swallow if you were his?"

It was odd how Meredith described it, as while Erik was subtly invading every corner of her life, Christine scarcely noticed—she certainly didn't _mind_.

And the thought of belonging to Erik was too delicious to even consider—it sent a sort o primitive thrill down her spine just to think of being claimed by such an impressive man as Erik.

Shrugging, Christine said, "I don't find him overwhelming at all. Sure, he's meddled in my life, but every single thing that he's done has only been to make my life _better_. What kind of jerk would I have to be to resent that?"

Smiling a little, Meredith said, "You'd be surprised what jerks some women can be. You lasso the moon for them, and they still find some petty reason to complain about your methods."

Shaking her head, Christine stated, "I'm not that girl."

"Good. My brother doesn't need that girl."

"Regardless, your brother has resisted my every attempt, so… while he has moved heaven and earth to revolve a little better around me, I can't _force _him to change his mind about this."

"Oh, sure you can," Meredith said easily. "He wants his mind to be changed, so it's definitely possible. Even Erik doesn't want to be alone forever."

"He shouldn't be," Christine replied quietly. "He won't be. Someday he'll have to let _someone_ in."

"Only if they barge down the doors, my dear. It's hard for normal people to understand, but Erik… has never been accused of normalcy. If that doesn't bother you though, I say 'full steam ahead.'"

"I've tried," Christine said, exasperated. "I completely humiliated myself—I tried to _kiss _him, and he couldn't get away from me fast enough. I don't know why he fights it so much, I know that he's attracted to me, but I also know that when I attempted to kiss him, he rejected me, and when I tried to make him jealous, he told me he didn't care. I don't know what else to try—if he won't even kiss me, I can't exactly show up on his doorstep wearing high heels and nothing else, y'know?"

Grinning, Meredith said, "It's not about switching methods, it's about persistence. If Erik's being stubborn, one attempt can be rebuffed, but continued attempts will wear him down. I promise you, if you really want my brother, you will have him—and you will have more than you anticipated, I can assure you. I only hope we're both right about you and you can take it, because if you secure his affections and then decide he's too much for you, I'm going to dangle you off the balcony."

"I can handle him," Christine assured her. "But how do you expect me to break down these doors? Am I just supposed to keep throwing myself at him every day until he succumbs? I don't think my self-esteem can handle it."

Shaking her head, Meredith was appraising Christine. "What are you doing right now?"

"Well… nothing, really. I was studying some Spanish, but it's not urgent or anything…"

"Good. Then you're coming with me."

"Where are we going?" Christine asked.

With a bright little smile, Meredith said, "Shopping."

-o-

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, so the juiciness I anticipated is extending to the _next _chapter—which is hopefully when the scene I was actually referring to last chapter will occur naturally. The good news is, I do believe you'll consider it worth the wait! :) As always, I love to hear what you think!


	14. The Point of No Return

**A/N:** This… is a really quite a long chapter! There was no natural break—unless I made a short one and cut out the juiciness again, but I wasn't willing to do that. So… it's long. But I have a hunch you'll enjoy it. :)

* * *

-o- **Chapter 14** -o-

_:The Point of No Return_:

* * *

While Christine was studying for the exam she had in music theory the following day, she sat nestled in the curve of her comfortable new sofa, propping her book up on the edge and feeling around her for her misplaced water bottle as she attempted not to take her gaze away from her carefully written notes.

"Why did Meredith get a balcony?" Meg complained, plopping down on the couch next to her friend, plate of cheesecake in hand as she peered over at her. "We didn't get a balcony."

"Well, I'm sure Erik built the building long before he was considering if we would want a balcony or not," Christine explained reasonably.

"Who _doesn't _want a balcony?" Meg answered, rolling her eyes.

"Someone who doesn't like heights?"

"If you don't like heights, live on the ground floor," Meg stated. "I feel like an idiot or a peeping tom peering out of the bathroom window."

"Well, feel free to peer out of my bedroom window if that will make you feel less creepy," Christine returned.

"You're so kind." Missing a beat, Meg said, "Oh, I forgot to tell you, Conor's coming over. I'm not sure how we're supposed to proceed with this boy stuff."

Grimacing, Christine said frankly, "Well, you're not going to sleep with him or anything, right? I thought you guys weren't even talking."

"Of course I'm not going to sleep with him. He's bringing a movie and a pizza and we're just going to hang out."

"So I'm getting booted to the harem?"

"An awful fate, I know. You can totally hang out and watch the movie with us if you'd rather, I just don't want you to feel like a third wheel."

"What movie are you watching?"

"Wedding Daze? I guess it's a comedy with that guy from American Pie in it."

"Well, that sounds absolutely titillating," Christine said dryly. "I think I'm going to pass this time though."

"Suit yourself. It could be the funniest movie of all time, and you'll never know."

"I'm going to take that chance," Christine stated, smiling slightly.

For the next few minutes, Meg enjoyed her cheesecake and Christine did some studying, then Meg went to change clothes, ignoring Christine's teasing that she was changing clothes to sit in their living room and watch a movie.

"Shut up, I can't very well greet him in sweat pants."

Glancing down at her own gray sweatpants and navy blue tank top, Christine said, "Does that mean I have to change?"

"Of course not," Meg said, reentering the room in a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a snug baby blue sweater that matched her eyes to perfection. "But you don't have to make up for throwing yourself at a damn Brit because you were drunk off your ass."

"True," Christine replied lightly. "We all know I am the absolute picture of decorum when I'm drunk."

"Hey, at least you only make romantic overtures at guys you actually like. I was all over a guy I didn't even _remember _the next day."

"True," Christine acknowledged.

As if on cue, their buzzer made its little noise and Meg grinned, prancing over to say, "Yep, I was expecting him. You can let him up."

"The good thing about having a buzzer is that the only surprise visitors we're going to get will be the ones that live in this building," Christine remarked.

"Erik or his sister," Meg said drolly. "How convenient that only they can ambush us."

"Actually, there's a really cute businessman down the hall who is at least bilingual with a good job. Instead of wasting your time with Conor, you should be trying to run into him in the laundry room."

"Cute, huh? I don't know, you like guys like that, but I think the type A thing would wig me out. I prefer the Conors and Raouls of the world."

"Weird," Christine teased, wrinkling up her nose at her friend.

"Different folks, different strokes. It's probably _good _that we don't go after the same guys. I'd hate to think of how different our relationship would be if I wanted to compete with you for Erik's attentions."

"Me too," Christine agreed placidly. "I like your eyes in your head; I would hate to have to claw them out."

Making a cute little paw swipe in the air, Meg hissed.

Christine chuckled, closing her music theory book and standing up. "I guess I should make myself scarce so you and Conor can do your gross cuddle time thing."

"You could always go upstairs and demand that Erik cuddle with you so you don't feel left out."

Rolling her eyes, Christine said, "Yeah, right. Why don't I just tell the bank to give me the contents of _your_ bank account, too? That's about as easy for me to access as 'cuddle time' with Erik."

"No, no, no, if you want money, you have to go to Erik for that, too. God, don't you know anything about fairy godmothers?"

"You'll have to forgive me if I have a difficult time picturing the very male specimen upstairs as my fairy godmother."

Shrugging, Meg said, "He's all right, I guess. The mask would throw me off."

Frowning, Christine said, "The mask is fine."

"I wasn't saying anything bad, Kitty, retract your claws. I'm merely making an observation."

"Well, only Erik-friendly observations are allowed in this building," Christine stated only half-jokingly.

"I guess since he _owns _the building I can't say much about that, huh?" Meg replied, smiling a little.

Just then there was a knock at the door and Meg's face lit up as she flipped her hair and smacked her lips one more time. "How do I look?"

"Very forgiveable," Christine told her with a nod, gathering up her textbook, her notebook with the pen tucked away in the spiral binding, and her bottle of water. "Well, you kids have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Before Christine even made it around the couch, however, she heard a voice that caused the blood to freeze right in her veins.

"Look who I ran into," Conor was saying as he hugged Meg, allowing his hands to linger about her hips.

"Oh, wow, what an unexpected surprise," Meg said, her gaze flitting uncertainly to Christine.

Unable to keep the look of horror off her face as she gaped at Raoul standing in her apartment, any polite attempt to pretend the surprise was pleasant would have been futile.

A slightly awkward pause fell over the room, and finally Christine gathered her wits, shoving her hair behind her ear and saying, "Hi, what a surprise…."

Laughing a little uneasily, he said, "I would have called, but I figured… you'd be _pleasantly _surprised…"

Of course he did.

Feeling like a bit of an ass, Christine offered a sheepish smile. "Yeah, I… I'm sorry, it's just that I have… I just wasn't expecting…"

Since she was unable to panic and feign politeness at the same time, she stopped trying, and instead leveled a telling glance at Meg. "Why don't we go get some plates in the kitchen?"

Extracting herself from Conor's grasp, Meg agreed and followed her friend into the kitchen.

As soon as they were in the kitchen, however, Christine spun around, whispering furiously, "_He _can't be here!"

"I didn't know he was coming!" Meg promised. "Conor said _nothing _about this."

"He _can't _be here!" Christine repeated, her eyes wide. "This is _Erik's _building. There are _security cameras _in the hallway. Who do you think sees those cameras, Meg?"

"The security team? Christine, come on. The guy's your teacher, not a stalker. He isn't going to be monitoring the comings and goings of our apartment."

"I don't know that," Christine whispered furiously. "What I _do _know is that he will be so far beyond pissed if he sees Raoul coming to my apartment, especially lingering for a couple of hours… my God, he freaks out if I answer a _text message _from Raoul on his turf, but entertaining him in the middle of the night?"

"It's 9:30," Meg stated, lifting an eyebrow at her friend's melodrama.

"Erik won't care. It may as well be midnight and I may as well be wearing a silk teddy. I've let it go too far, he's seen me kissing Raoul, I've… sort of used Raoul a time or two to try to invoke some sort of response in Erik. It's mostly my own fault, but if Erik finds out Raoul is slipping into my apartment in the evening, he's going to flip out."

"What's he going to do, yell at you? I understand the guy's done a lot for you, but at the end of the day, he's not your boyfriend. You're _allowed _to entertain male guests in the evenings until he makes it otherwise."

"I don't think Erik will see it that way," Christine stated.

"Well then _Erik _should stake a claim," Meg said bluntly. "If you're going to act like the devoted girlfriend without benefit of the title, you may never _get _the title. You've heard the expression 'why buy the cow if you can get the milk for free?' haven't you?"

Rolling her eyes, Christine said, "Erik's not exactly milking me."

Grinning, Meg said, "That sounds _so _dirty."

"Back to the point? Raoul has to go."

"I'm not kicking him out," Meg said with a shrug. "If you want to walk out there and drain the very light out of his eyes, feel free, but I can't do that to the poor guy. He just thought he'd pop in and pay a pleasant little visit to the girl he's been hanging out with and frequently giving his kisses to. I don't know, some people would call that normal."

"Normal's overrated," Christine muttered, but she couldn't escape the truth of those words. "Okay, so… I realize this is my fault. I've been sending mixed signals."

"Wow, it's like… I've said this to you before…"

"Don't get cute," Christine said, leveling a dry look on her best friend.

"I can't help it if I'm just naturally cute," Meg replied sweetly. "I told you that you were going to have to deal with this eventually, I think I even told you that you were digging a deeper and deeper hole every day, but did you want to talk about it? Absolutely not. I was like, 'Hey, Christine, maybe you should make a choice,' and you fastened your hands over your ears and went, 'lalalalala!' This is the result."

"You suck," Christine stated, crossing her arms defensively over her chest.

"Don't hate me because I'm right," Meg replied, walking past her friend and grabbing some plates. "Why don't you just put your books away, come have some pizza and watch this movie with us, and deal with this situation tonight before it gets any worse. I daresay if Meredith realized how much you've involved Raoul in this little situation, you'd lose her as a champion."

A little knot of dread formed in Christine's stomach at the realization that Meg was right. Meredith had asked Christine outright if Raoul was anything to worry about, and Christine had assured her that she wasn't. It wasn't a _lie_, because she preferred Erik to Raoul, no contest… but it wasn't entirely true, either, as she did spend time with Raoul, occasionally let Raoul kiss her, and dangle him in front of Erik's face in an attempt to evoke some feeling in him.

Okay, so it wasn't a _nice _way to treat someone….

She needed to end it.

She realized that, if a little belatedly.

Sighing, her shoulders slumped a bit and she grabbed a roll of paper towels, following Meg back into the living room.

-o-

As it happened, deciding to set Raoul straight about their situation and actually mustering the courage to do it were two entirely separate things.

Still chuckling as Meg crawled across the floor to take the DVD out of the DVD player, Raoul looked over at Christine, offering a nice smile. "What did you think of it?"

"It was stupid," she replied mildly, not at all surprised.

"But it was kind of funny, wasn't it? You laughed a couple of times."

"Of course I did, but it was still stupid."

"I think it was supposed to be," he reasoned. "People don't generally propose to waitresses they don't even know in real life."

"At least not when they're sober," Conor put in.

"Right," Raoul agreed, shaking his head.

"If I asked you to marry me Meg, what would you say?" Conor joked.

"That you should probably stop drinking for the night," she quipped.

Christine snorted, then she went to pull herself up off the couch.

"Wait," Raoul said, smiling and pulling her back down, letting his arm linger around her.

"I would say the same thing, so don't ask," she said as a preemptive measure.

Chuckling, he said, "I wasn't going to move _that _fast, don't worry."

Still trying to disentangle herself from him, she said, "I've gotta get up."

"What's your rush? Can't I hold you for a second?"

"No," she said abruptly.

He looked a little surprised, but he dropped his arms, allowing her to stand up.

Raking a hand through her hair, Christine sighed, trying to figure how to proceed with what she needed to do.

"All right," Raoul said slowly, getting to his feet. "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to be pushy…"

"No, you weren't," she said, feeling like the worst sort of jerk. "It's me, not you. I have a test in my music theory class tomorrow, and… I should be studying instead of watching a movie, and…" As she danced around the truth, she felt Meg's pointed glare in her direction. She _had _to be honest with him….

"No, I totally understand, that class is tough. I'm sorry, I should have been more considerate…"

Grimacing a little, she said, "No… That's not all… Um…"

As if sensing the unpleasant topic she wanted to broach, Raoul said, "Look, I'm going to head home so you can get back to studying before you go to bed. Why don't you and I meet for lunch tomorrow after your class?"

Biting down on her bottom lip, she debated whether or not she should agree. She had already set up a music lesson with Erik, but that wouldn't be until 2:30… Buying the guy lunch was probably the least she could do for letting him think she might be interested when she knew all along she wasn't, and she had only used him half the time to try to provoke another guy into being jealous…

Yep, she definitely owed him lunch.

"Well, all right, but we'll have to leave _directly _after my class, I have to work and I have an appointment before work, so we have to finish lunch by two or a few minutes after."

"Will we be able to?" he asked, frowning.

"We should. Since I have an exam, class will let out early. We'll have to be quick, maybe just a sandwich or something?"

"All right. Tell you what, why don't we meet at that place we went last week, the one right by the campus? That way we'll have enough time to eat."

"Yeah, definitely, we can do that."

"Okay, great." Glancing over at Conor, who was not ready to leave, Raoul made his excuses without a hint of awkwardness, then he gave Christine a hug—but didn't even attempt to kiss her—and then he slipped out the door.

Christine glanced up to find Conor and Meg just sort of staring at her, so she pointed to her room and said, "I'm just gonna… g'night!"

Groaning once she had shut herself inside her little harem, she rolled her eyes at herself and muttered, "Well, _that _could have gone much better."

-o-

Christine really hadn't spent much of the next morning worrying over whether or not Erik might have seen the tapes, partially because she figured Meg was right about her being overly concerned—the world didn't revolve around her, after all, and it was unlikely Erik had nothing better to do that stalk her via security cameras—and partially because she forgot. She was so preoccupied with her other classes and avoiding thinking about what she was going to say to Raoul that afternoon, she barely spared Erik a single thought.

Until she walked into his classroom, and found herself wishing that she had an extra coat.

Eyeing him uncertainly as he sat behind his table, his eyes glued to the papers in front of him, Christine glanced around the otherwise empty room before dropping her bag onto the table and turning to look at him again before taking her seat.

"Hi," she said cautiously.

Without looking at her, he inclined his head and said, "Good afternoon, Miss Daaé."

Her heart plummeted to the floor and she felt her face fall. "I'm Miss Daaé again?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"You've always been Miss Daaé, at least as far as I know," he replied coolly.

"What's wrong? Did I do something to make you angry?"

"Of course not," he replied tonelessly. "I hope you studied for the test; I spent some extra time on it last night, and I must say, even for me it's brutal."

"Of course I studied," she said, still feeling confused by his coolness toward her. "Are we… are we still having a music lesson before I go to work?"

"Yes," he replied, sounding less than enthusiastic about the prospect. "I'm afraid it's going to have to be moved up, however, as I have some business to attend to. You'll have to come with me directly after class if you want the lesson."

"I can do that," she said quickly, hating that he wouldn't even look at her. "What did I do, Erik? Why are you…?" Without even finishing her question, the night before came back to her, her concern over the security cameras. Perhaps _she _was right and _Meg _was wrong…

He finally moved his eyes away from the papers to look at her, but when those cold golden orbs hit her face, she almost wished he would have kept avoiding her.

Feeling as if she had been socked in the stomach, she began explaining herself almost pathologically. "Erik, I didn't do anything wrong. I'm not sure why you're so angry at me, but if you would just tell me then I'm sure I could explain—"

"I am not angry with you, Miss Daaé," he said distinctly.

Before she could utter another word of protest, Carlotta came strolling into the room, all multi-colored hair and indifference.

Pouting a little, Christine plopped down into her own seat and crossed her arms over her chest, hating that Erik was obviously so displeased with her. Everything had been perfectly fine between them at rehearsal the evening before, and she could think of no possible explanation for the wretched man's moodiness aside from Raoul's visit.

Unfortunately, as prepared as she had been for the test, Erik's sore mood threw her off. When she tried to focus, her brain kept taking her off track, her eyes kept flitting up to try to meet his gaze, so instead of the quick, poised responses she had anticipated, she was lagging behind, and one by one she watched every other student in the classroom complete their tests and turn them in, leaving only her, furiously finishing the last section as her cheeks burned and Erik sat behind the desk, seemingly unconcerned.

"Sorry," she murmured when she finally finished, standing up to turn in her quiz.

Shrugging, Erik replied, "If you had something more important to do than study, by all means, you have to have your priorities."

Flushing an even deeper shade of red, she said, "I _was _studying—you can ask Meg, I started studying as soon as I got home from chorus practice last night. I even turned down stopping for a slice of pizza with you so I could get in extra study time!"

His lips curved upward, but he didn't look amused, "Yes, I'm sure that's why you didn't have pizza with me."

"Why _else _wouldn't I have pizza with you?" she asked, frustrated, shoving her pen inside her bag and hoisting it on her shoulder.

"Perhaps you had a better offer," he stated.

"Don't be absurd, you know there's no better offer to me than you. Whatever you're angry about, you're just being stubborn. You _know _how I feel and you refuse to reciprocate and you're _not _fair!" Having said her piece, she let out a huffy breath and folded her arms defensively across her chest as they walked out of the room, Erik shutting the light off and closing the door behind them.

"There's no need to get all huffy," he said, sounding slightly mollified.

Eyes widening, she said, "I probably just flunked your test because I was too worried about why you were mad at me to even remember what the hell a minor scale entailed."

Sighing, he said, "You shouldn't let things like that disrupt your studies, Christine."

"Easy for you to say," she grumbled. "It must be nice to hold all the cards in this unrelationship."

"And at any rate, I'm sure you could have studied more," he added, apparently deciding not to take the brunt of the blame.

"Whatever. If I fail your class, I'm just going to take it again and again and again, and for the rest of your life you're going to be stuck in a classroom with me."

That time a genuine smile flirted with the corners of his mouth as he said a touch mockingly, "Oh no, anything but _that_."

Leveling him an overly haughty look, she said, "Just you wait."

Sighing lightly, he said, "I'm sure you didn't flunk it. I'll grade it this evening and see how you did."

"And if I failed it?"

"If you failed it… I'll give you a chance to earn back a few points with an oral exam."

Biting back the inappropriate remark that sprung up in her mind about doing oral exams for extra credit, she instead said, "I thought you didn't give second chances or extra credit."

"I don't, but I'm not completely unreasonable. If the reason you didn't do well was because of me, it's fair enough to give you a chance to prove you know the material. I won't let you retake the whole thing, but if your grade's too bad I'll give you the opportunity to bump it up a letter grade."

"And this isn't preferential treatment, I presume?"

"Of course not, I'm an unreciprocating bastard, remember?"

"I definitely didn't use that word," she pointed out.

"I was paraphrasing," he informed her.

The rest of the way back to their apartment building was similar; they didn't completely return to the friendly state they had been in the day before, but she no longer felt like she was developing frostbite in his presence. It did occur to Christine, as they were walking out of the building together, that she was supposed to be meeting Raoul for lunch. She felt like she should call him and explain that she wasn't standing him up, she just… well, okay, she was, but she was sorry, and she would get around to having the uncomfortable conversation with him later. Since she was speculating that Erik's sour mood might have something to do with Raoul, however, she didn't think it would be a very wise move to say, "Hey, you mind if I call another guy real quick? I'll just be a sec."

So, even though she felt even worse for completely standing him up, Christine didn't call him, she merely added it to her list of reasons to feel guilty and told herself she would call him as soon as her session with Erik was over to apologize for being such a heel.

Considering she was being quite rude to Raoul for Erik, she spent the quiet parts of the walk home building her irritation on _that _point. The man really had no right to be so angry. If he _had _been somehow alerted to Raoul's visit the evening before, Meg was right—why should he be so angry? It wasn't as if Christine was Erik's girlfriend. If they were together, she could understand his reluctance to be happy about Christine having a male friend over in the evening, but she was a free agent, dammit. Erik told her he didn't care what she did with her private life, it was her time spent with him that he didn't appreciate being interrupted by Raoul.

By the time they arrived at Erik's apartment, she had almost completely forgiven herself for the evening before. She still needed to talk to Raoul, because she wasn't being fair to him, but once she set him straight about there being no chance of them dating, she would proceed to hang out with him in an innocent and friendly manner whenever she felt like it.

Well, if he ever wanted to talk to her again after having been treated so poorly by her.

When they got into the apartment Erik helped Christine remove her coat, then he offered her something to drink and came back with a bottle of water for each of them. Heading to the music room, Erik gave her a couple of song choices to practice that day and she picked the one she thought she could perform best.

Erik took her through the warm-ups and then Christine began practicing the song. After they went over it a couple of times, Christine needed a little break to grab a drink, but while she rehydrated herself Erik continued to play softly in the background, not the song they were playing but something by Mozart that he seemed to know off the top of his head.

Christine closed her eyes, letting Erik's music sweep her up in its entrancing spell, and she might have stayed that way for quite awhile if a different tune wouldn't have interrupted.

Frowning, it took Christine a second to realize "Somewhere over the Rainbow" was coming from the vicinity of her phone.

"Oh," she said, a bit startled as she headed over to table where she had put her phone down.

"Just leave it," Erik said a little irritably.

Feeling a bit guilty, Christine hesitated, but finished making her way to the phone and looked at the screen, seeing Raoul's number. When she grabbed the phone anyway, Erik's hands slammed down on the keyboard and he was up and out of his seat, crossing the room and approaching her, eyes flashing and hand outstretched.

Wide-eyed, Christine surrendered her phone without even giving it a second thought.

His long, elegant fingers curled around the phone and for a few seconds he merely met her gaze, then he opened the phone to see who was calling. His lips curved upward when he saw Scarecrow flashing across the screen, and he said, "Your _friend, _I presume? Haven't we already discussed this? Didn't I already tell you I would not have him—"

"I wasn't going to answer it," she interrupted, attempting to explain. "I was just silencing it."

"Do you _like_ him?" Erik asked, his lovely voice caressing 'like' as if it were his favorite curse.

"I—Raoul's my friend," she said, hating that her voice wavered a little. Damn, but the man could give the most intimidating of looks.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"I don't see why you care," she returned a little more strongly, meeting his gaze with a defiant little spark in her eye. "In fact, you distinctly told me that you didn't when I tried to kiss you, if you'll recall. Since you don't like me, you don't have any right to expect me not to be with someone who does."

Instead of making him look at all abashed, her logical argument seemed only to inflame his anger more. Those golden eyes of his flashed again and his grip on the phone tightened as he all but growled, "You're _with _him?"

Flushing slightly and backing up a step—as he had unconsciously stepped forward when he was growling at her—Christine's back met with the wall. "Well, no, I didn't mean that… I'm _with _him, I'm only saying if I… if I _wanted _to be with him, you can't stop me."

Erik's eyes narrowed. "I can't stop you?" he annunciated very distinctly.

Refusing to be cowed, she folded her arms across her chest defensively and said, "That's right."

"I disagree, my dear," he returned, his voice seeming suspiciously amiable. "If you had to choose, would you really choose him over me?"

"That's not fair," she said quietly, feeling a little prick in the vicinity of her heart. "You want to cage me up and keep me to yourself, but for what? You don't want to be with me, but you don't want anyone else to be either? Does that seem fair to you, Erik?"

"We've already established that I'm not fair," he said, but his voice was too low—it made her a little nervous. "Whether it's fair or not, this is how it is—the boy is no longer allowed to come barging into your apartment late at night. He's no longer allowed to call you when you're with me, as it makes me want to break every tooth in his head. He's no longer allowed to kiss you—"

"And just what authority do you think you have to make all of these demands?" she asked, even though she had been ready to concede at least half of that to get him out of his temper anyway. It was one thing when she was offering to appease him, but quite another when he was barking orders at her as if he had a right to do so.

"Are you so attached to him, then?"

"No, I'm not, I just want to know what right you think you have to boss me around. When it comes to music and class, I understand, but when it comes down to who I'm kissing, you've made sure that's none of your business. For that matter, how do you know he was at my apartment last night?"

"He had to be buzzed up, didn't he? For that matter, I told you there were cameras in the hallway."

"For security purposes, not to _spy _on me," she stated.

Since he didn't really have a response to that, he didn't bother arguing. Instead, he merely stated, "I don't want you to be involved with that boy."

Eyes flashing, she returned scathingly, "Then who am I allowed to be involved with, master?"

One second he was glaring at her just as she was glaring at him, and a split second later he was closing the distance between them, pinning her right to the wall as his mouth descended almost angrily onto hers, just in time to catch Christine's gasp of surprise against his lips.

Floored, Christine stood there like a statue for approximately two seconds—then she wrapped her arms around his neck, molding her body as closely to his as she could. Sparks seemed to ignite in her chest and fireworks went off somewhere in the vicinity of her head. When she opened her mouth to allow him better access, she thought she might die from the pure bliss of having Erik kiss her. He was perfect—not too aggressive, not too passive, not too sloppy, not too dry. The only problem seemed to be that his kiss was almost literally incapacitating—her knees kept faltering and she was fairly certain she would have crumpled to the floor if not for the support of holding onto Erik, the feel of his hands wandering down to wrap around her, one hand at the small of her back as he pulled her against him.

It was pure Heaven, but unlike Heaven, it ended.

When Erik pulled back, he looked as surprised and ruffled as Christine did.

"Well, that was… inappropriate," he said uncomfortably.

Raising her eyebrows, still a little breathless, Christine said, "Can you major in inappropriate? 'Cause if that's what it is, I'm a fan."

Instead of smiling at her little joke, the lines etched in his face deepened and he started to pull back—in every sense of the word.

"Oh, no you don't," Christine stated, her tender embrace turning to something more akin to a death grip. Instead of using words just then, she leaned in, lightly kissing him on the mouth, then moving slightly to kiss the corner of his mouth; after that she left a little trail of light kisses across his jaw line and down his neck, where she felt his pulse quicken beneath her lips.

"Christine…"

"Sh," she said, resting her index finger against his lips. "Unless you're going to say, 'That was a good idea, why didn't I try that sooner?' I don't want to hear it."

"The boy…"

"What boy?" she asked, flashing him a flirty glance beneath her eyelashes.

"I'm serious about this."

"Yes, I see that," she answered, grinning a little. "Fortunately, you finally employed the one surefire method of getting your way. I'll call Raoul later and tell him I can't see him anymore."

"And evening visits…?"

"Would probably be inappropriate," she finished. "However, I would prefer that you trust me on this as opposed to watching my hallway every night."

"I'm not sure that we should be doing this. I shouldn't have done that…"

"You should have done that," she disagreed. "You should have definitely done that. There's no turning back now, mister. You just passed the point of no return."

"I don't know about that," he said, smiling slightly.

"I do," she said, nodding vigorously. "Now I know you want to kiss me, now I'm not going to accept your dumb excuses."

"My career is a dumb excuse?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Um, yeah," she said as if it were obvious. "You own a skyscraper and an architectural firm; I'm pretty confident you wouldn't be living in a box on the street without your teacher's salary. Also, I will be discreet, you will be discreet, and no one at Columbia need ever know about our relationship, at least not until after I graduate." Her own eyes widened as she realized she had more or less just said she expected them to still be together when she graduated after only one kiss. "What I meant was, _if _they ever have to find out, but chances are they don't even need to know ever. Not that I _don't _think…" Pausing again, she said, "Let me start over. Regardless of where this relationship goes, it's no one's business but yours and mine. You're not going to lose your job over this."

"I'm glad you're so confident," he remarked, smiling slightly and almost absently brushing her hair behind her ear.

Smiling at the tenderness of his touch, she leaned in to rest her head in the curve of his neck, turning her face to leave a gentle little kiss there. "Rose-tinted glasses, right here."

"I'm going to have to procure a pair of those," he replied, lightly rubbing her back.

"Agreed," she stated, pulling back to smile up at him. "I have plenty, I'll loan you some of mine."

"And if all else fails, at least I won't end up in a box," he remarked wryly.

"Definitely not. I also don't think you would actually get fired for a relationship with me—I'm not a high school student, I'm legally an adult and fully capable of deciding these things for myself."

"You are, but it isn't about your age, it's about me being in a position of authority over you. It isn't ethical."

"Bah, who needs ethics?" she asked dismissively.

"Some people would argue that a professor should have just a few."

"You can have ethics with your other students. Actually, even _I _require that you have ethics with your _other _students," she stated mostly playfully, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not sharing you, that's for sure."

"Well, at least we can agree on that. I don't want you going to that damn club with him anymore either," Erik grumbled.

"Like I said, not an issue. Besides, I'm hoping you'll keep me too occupied to even have time for such nonsense," she said, grinning.

"May I assume you won't argue when I try to pay for you now?"

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Like I ever do anymore—what's the point in arguing with a man who won't stop until he wins? If you were dumb, I could just outwit you, but sadly you're smarter than I am. You should have been a lawyer."

"I would have made a lousy lawyer," Erik stated. "Can you think of anything more boring than trying to figure out how to get guilty people to be perceived as innocent?"

"You could have defended innocents. It would have gone right along with the super hero thing."

Shaking his head, he said, "Not really my style, sorry to disappoint you."

Shrugging, she said, "That's all right. I would have liked you even if you were a super _villain_, instead."

"Hidden away in my lair while I cackled and plotted diabolical ways to get the boy out of my way?"

Nodding, she said, "If you were a really devoted villain, you might have even kidnapped me a time or two. After all, if I'm the heroine that probably means I'm rather flighty and vapid, so I'm sure I think I like the hero, but secretly… I would totally live for the times you kidnapped me."

Chuckling a little, he said, "You _would _like the creepy one."

"No, I just liked whichever one you were. If you were the dashing hero, I would dramatically throw my hand to my forehead, faint into your arms, and ride off into the sunset."

"I don't know that I'm the ride-off-into-the-sunset type…"

"Thank God," she returned. "Those are so boring. Plus, I'm not really the fainting type."

"So… what now?" he asked.

For a moment, Christine considered how unusual it was that Erik—the older and presumably more experience one—was looking to her rather uncertainly as if he wasn't sure how they were supposed to proceed.

"Well… if we were different people, I would say we go out casually, get to know each other… but since you and I have a different relationship and we already _know _each other… I sort of feel that we should skip that step. Even though you've refused to admit it, we've practically been dating, we just haven't been kissing or doing any of that fun stuff that goes along with it."

"No, because you've been kissing someone else," he muttered.

Giving him a no-nonsense look, she said, "That is in large part _your _fault, and I'm not taking all the flak for it. You should have just kissed me back that first time I tried to kiss you and saved us a whole lot of time and trouble."

"I'm still not—"

Refusing to listen to him try to argue with her _again_, Christine went about shutting him up in the nicest way she knew how: by planting her lips firmly on his.

When she pulled back, he smiled a little and said, "Are you going to kiss me to shut me up every time you don't like what I'm saying?"

"Possibly."

"Reinforcing bad behavior isn't really a very logical way of doing things," he pointed out.

"True. It could just be that I like kissing you, and I haven't been able to up until now. I must say, if I would have realized earlier that all I had to do to get you to take that step was really make you mad, I would have ticked you off early and often in our relationship."

Raising an eyebrow, Erik lightly teased, "We're in a relationship now?"

"Your sister already thought we were in a _clandestine _relationship. I must admit, she made it sound a lot more exciting than it was."

Rolling his eyes, he said, "I love my sister, but she is at times irrational."

"Well, she must not be _that _irrational, considering our 'to date or not to date' debate."

"Say that five times fast," he challenged.

"I dislike that challenge," she informed him, pulling herself closer and smiling as she leaned in for another kiss.

When she pulled back, he added, "Spanish is fun."

Laughing a little, she leaned in for another kiss.

After that, he proceeded to tell her she got an F on her exam, she butchered her song in practice, and he was just about to tell her he hated The Wizard of Oz when she stopped giving him a chance to talk.

As much as she usually loved to hear him talk, she had just discovered she liked something else he could do with his mouth much better.

-o-

* * *

**A/N:** I was gonna go a little longer, but I have about a truck load of homework and a ridiculously late night tomorrow. I wanted to get this out now (**Daae-Phantom-Love**, I hope you're having fun in London!) so here it is! :) Hope you guys enjoyed! Thanks so much for the feedback!


	15. Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

**A/N:** Hey guys! I didn't disappear, I'm sorry, I was just tied up with a bunch of nonsense related to the end of the semester and then the hectic holidays. Hope everyone had a great holiday season! :) I also lost my story notes—don't know why I wrote them on _paper_—so… that was inconvenient. I mean, I know what's supposed to happen anyway, but still.

Anyway, hope everyone had a nice holiday season! Sorry for taking so long on this update!

* * *

_Nature has placed mankind under the governance of two sovereign masters, pain and pleasure. _

_It is for them alone to point out what we ought to do, as well as to determine what we shall do.- Jeremy Bentham_

* * *

Work that night seemed to fly by. Christine was floating the whole evening, grinning to herself over memories or kissing Erik, being free to touch him and hug him…

Although when they had been kissing and at one point her hand got too close to his mask, he had abruptly yanked her hand away and sent her a speaking scowl—its message: don't touch the mask.

Personally she thought kissing—particularly passionately—might be easier _without _the mask on, but Erik didn't seem to care. That was the one foreign sensation—when they were kissing, unless she tilted her head a certain way, she felt Erik's mask against her skin. Considering _he _felt the mask against his skin all the time, she wasn't going to complain, but it felt unnatural.

Still, she was only on day one—she couldn't very well ask him to remove it already. Eventually she would want him to remove the mask just so he could see that she didn't have a problem with whatever lay beneath, but in the meantime, she was okay with kissing a masked man. Now, if their relationship ended up escalating and they ended up in bed together… then she might have a problem with the mask. Surely he would take it off then…

It wasn't an immediate problem, though, so she didn't dwell on it. The mask was something she had scarcely noticed before that day—but physically feeling it brush her skin had reminded her.

When she got off work she went home expecting to find Meg and share her exciting news, but once she got there she remembered Meg was working at the theater with kids that evening, and since it was Friday she was going to go out with a couple of friends afterward.

Her first thought upon realizing that she had nothing to do—unless she holed up in her room, which seemed like a terrible idea on the first day of her new relationship with Erik—was to call him and see if he was doing anything. Since he had been off-limits to her after 11 on Friday nights before—aside from the terrible night club event—she didn't know if Erik was a night owl or if he went to bed early. He wasn't a college student—Friday night probably wasn't as exciting for him.

Figuring she would never know if she didn't ask, she took out her phone and located Erik's phone number in it, then she pushed send and waited.

"Hello?" he answered.

"_Hola_, Erik! ¿_Qué haces_?"

Chuckling, he replied, "Not much" but in Spanish.

"I'm not doing much either," she said, switching back to English.

"How was work?" he asked politely.

"Oh, great. Every night's great. I just play the piano and get fawned over—who doesn't love that?"

"I suppose you have a point."

"Firmin also slipped up tonight at work, so if you wouldn't have told me that you own the building, I would have found out tonight."

"It seems I have impeccable timing then. How did he slip up?"

"Well, I really wanted one of the desserts when I was on break, but Firmin has made it very clear that no one on the staff is allowed to have the desserts without paying. Naturally, since I'm an employee I tried to pay for my dessert—something about the long brown bakery stick thingies being imported—he went all batty and told me that I couldn't pay; when I argued and tried to pay anyway, he told me that if he made me pay he would have to suffer your wrath and then you probably wouldn't give him a discount on his rent anymore."

Instead of agreeing or disagreeing, Erik merely chuckled. "I suppose that is rather telling, isn't it?"

"You gave him decreased rent to hire me? I understand I'm not the next Mozart, but…"

"It has nothing to do with your skill," Erik assured her. "He didn't technically _need _a pianist, it was more of a… friendly _suggestion_ from me. People have a tendency to abide by my suggestions."

"You mean demands?" she suggested, smiling even though he couldn't see her.

"Tomato to-mah-to," he responded with levity.

Laughing a little, Christine said, "Well, thank you, I think. I appreciate you using your 'suggestions' to secure me a position doing what I enjoy. However, if Firmin doesn't even _need _a pianist, I feel bad that he's paying me, especially so much."

"It's not that much, Christine, and I assure you he doesn't mind; I drop his rent the same amount he pays you every month."

"So, in essence, you _are _paying me."

"No, not at all," he argued, even though she thought she made logical sense. Before she could pick up on that, however, Erik asked, "What are you doing this evening?"

"Me? Oh… well, nothing as of yet. I mean, I obviously just got home from work, but Meg's out and I'm not allowed to fraternize," she teased lightly, "so I haven't figured out what I'm going to do."

"I never said _that_; of course you're allowed to be sociable, just not with boys that I've seen you kiss. That one in particular bothers me."

"I know, I was just teasing you," she assured him. "I promise I would never let you _really _stop me from doing something I want to do."

"Quite the opposite; don't I generally _encourage _you to do things that you wish to do?"

"You do," she agreed happily. "You're a very good influence, Erik."

"You're going to make me blush," he answered dryly.

"What are _you _doing tonight?" she returned, trying to bring them back to the realization that—hopefully—neither of them had plans, so they should logically be together.

"I was just contemplating watching a movie," he informed her.

"All by yourself?" she asked, grimacing a little when she realized how obvious that was.

"No, with one of the girls I'm seeing."

The line went dead as Christine blinked, momentarily wondering if she had heard him right. His voice had been so even and thoroughly without the humor that should have accompanied such a sentence…

"It was a joke," he offered rather quickly.

"Not funny," she stated, a little relieved anyway. "You're not allowed to fraternize either, mister."

"Well, I guess that leaves me with rather limited options then, doesn't it?" he remarked, amusement clear in his tone. "Would you like to come watch a movie with me? Forewarning, there is an English version, but my copy is French."

"You and your foreign films."

"I prefer French to English, I think it sounds much nicer."

"Well, I would love to come with a French film with you," she informed him. "I'll just leave a note for Meg and be right up."

"Excellent. _A tout à l'heure_."

"Oh boy," she murmured, taking a moment to translate that out to something like, 'I'll see you later.' "I might need to bring a French dictionary or something. I'm a bit rusty."

"Nonsense, I'm utterly fluent. I'll refresh your memory if you've forgotten something. Do you know what I said?"

"Yes, and I'll see you later, too," she said, smiling a little as she hung up the phone.

-o-

The movie was about halfway over when Christine—who was situated next to Erik on the couch, resting her head on his shoulder—began to get a little bit uncomfortable. She shifted her body, nestled deeper into Erik's side, and began absently running her fingers across his stomach, down over his thigh, and anywhere else her indolent hand could touch.

Instead of going with it, Erik moved. "I'm sorry, are you uncomfortable?"

Smiling ironically as she lifted her head, displaced by his movements, she said, "Well, I _wasn't_."

"You were moving."

"I _moved_. I had stopped moving."

"You were touching me."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Do you have cooties that I should know about?"

Instead of responding, he merely looked at her.

Shaking her head and rolling her eyes light-heartedly, Christine teased, "Jeeze, you'd think no one's ever tried to cuddle with you before."

She hadn't expected the almost unconscious grimace that stole across his visible features for the merest of seconds before disappearing entirely. Her smile waned.

Instead of asking the ridiculous question, she cleared her throat and said, "Are you one of those guys that doesn't like cuddling?"

"I couldn't say for certain," he replied dispassionately, his tone a little guarded. "Have you… cuddled with many…?"

Christine shook her head. "A couple of dumb boys, no one of any consequence. What do you mean? Hasn't anyone… cuddled with you?"

"Not since Meredith was a toddler," he answered, his tone somehow even stiffer than it had been.

"Oh… Wow. Okay. Um… should I not…? I mean, if it bothers you, that's no big deal, I can just…"

"It doesn't bother me, I just… didn't expect it."

"Well… now that you _do _expect it, is that okay? I'm kind of a cuddler. You're not very touchy feely though, are you?"

Erik merely shook his head, looking to be quite out of his element.

Deciding to back off just a bit, Christine flashed him a smile and said, "That's okay, we can ease into physical affection if it's a sore subject. I can sit up and stop fondling you."

He hesitated for a moment, then he sighed a little and said, "Christine, I should probably warn you, my experience with this sort of thing is… _extremely _limited. There are a couple of people in the world who are fine with the mask—Diane Arbus, I think, would have liked me very much—but as a general rule, my eccentricities as well as my sometimes abrasive personality… well, they don't really appeal to the general female population."

"Thus proving the general female population is sadly numbered with idiots," she stated loyally, offering him another smile. "I don't care that you haven't dated a lot, Erik. I haven't even dated a lot, and I don't have the excuse of being eccentric."

"Yes, well, in case it slipped your mind, I'm significantly older than you," he pointed out.

She just shrugged. "So you're preserved. Big deal. I'd rather you have relatively little relationship experience than to date a male whore any day."

He actually snorted. "Well, I can assure you I'm certainly not that."

"And I'm glad to hear it. Now, we've been talking, and I have completely missed everything that just happened—and it's in another language, so I should have been paying attention."

"I'll go back a scene," he stated, reaching for the control.

"If I didn't miss anything important, don't bother. Now, I'm going to sit over here and keep my hands to myself while we enjoy the rest of the movie."

"I'm sorry, I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable, I just…"

"No," she interrupted, shaking her head. "I'm not. It's totally fine. Don't worry."

Regardless, it _was _a little odd to watch a movie with the guy she was seeing and to have to be completely conscious of how close she was to him at all times. If she even brushed his arm, she wondered if it was okay.

Since she had missed a little bit of what was going on _and _she had to translate the movie as she watched, she found that for the moment, she didn't feel like doing that much work to watch a movie. Instead, she tried to observe Erik out of the corner of her eye without his notice. Normally, when she was looking at him, she avoided looking at the mask in any way that could be construed as obvious, not wanting to offend him or make him feel self-conscious. That didn't mean she wasn't reasonably curious, however, and given the chance to observe him without being seen, she did. The way the mask was cut, it covered half of his face, and the top edge seemed to merge seamlessly with his hair line, but she had never studied the mask closely enough to see the rest of it. Erik had strategically taken his seat on the right side of the sofa so that she was seated to his left—the good side of his face. She couldn't wrap her head around it. That side of his face was so perfect, even _handsome_. Coming from an apparently attractive line, he had a nice bone structure and clear skin, although she noticed that he was _very _clean shaven, as if no hair ever grew on his face. She followed the curve of his jaw to the shadowy hollow of his neck and the area below his chin. The room was dark, which didn't help at all, but she thought she could see a bit of mask on the opposite side of his face, not nearly as neatly trimmed as the top edge of his mask, but seemingly a little frayed. Completely without thought, she tilted to head a little to try to get a better look.

"It's impolite to stare, you know," Erik stated, his tone a little cool.

Starting, Christine's eyes jerked to his as he turned to make eye contact with her.

"I wasn't…"

"There's no need to lie."

Frowning slightly, she said, "I just… I feel like I'm not allowed to look at you closely, but I'm not looking _that _way, I'm just… I'm attracted to you, it's natural to look at people and things you're attracted to."

His lips tilted up just slightly and in a somewhat self-deprecating way, he asked, "Which part is it that's so attractive—the gauzy mask or the mystery of what lies beneath?"

Giving him the driest look she could muster, she said, "Your good nature."

That took him off guard and caused him to laugh a little.

Smiling, Christine said, "You should try looking at yourself objectively once in awhile. You said yourself, you have great genes—Meredith is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and you have her genes. Whatever imperfection it is that you have, I can't see it—_literally_, not just magnanimously."

"I prefer it that way," he stated. "In some cases, ignorance is bliss. You're able to be attracted to me because you _don't _see what's underneath, but if you _did _see it, you might find your ability to find me attractive severely diminished."

Shaking her head with disappointment she didn't have to fake, she said, "How shallow you must think I am."

Erik sighed. "It really has nothing to do with being shallow, Christine. You can look at something one way, but given further information about it—"

"Given further information, I would have a better understanding and the exact same attraction, but I wasn't going to reach out and rip the thing off your face or anything, I was merely paying attention to you when I thought you weren't paying attention to me."

"Do you not like the movie?" he asked. "We can turn it off."

"I like the movie, I just like you more," she informed him with a sly little smile.

"Oh, aren't you a charmer," he remarked lightly, relaxing a little.

"I do try," she said with as much solemnity as possible. "If you were a snake, I'd have you right here," she added, indicating her palm.

"Oh, would you now?"

She could tell she had amused him out of the defensiveness he had been contemplating, so she felt a little proud of herself. "Yep," she stated smugly.

"Do you suppose all of me would fit right there?"

Christine's eyebrows shot way up but for a moment, Erik seemed to miss the innuendo in his own playful question.

"I don't know," she answered, thoroughly amused. "But I'm interested in finding out. You're buying me dinner first, right?"

The man actually blushed.

"Aww," she said, without thought reaching out to touch his face as she would have any other guy she was dating if she had inadvertently embarrassed him. "I was teasing, don't give me a lecture."

Shaking his head, he said, "Not until Monday." He then reached up to where her hand was cupping the good side of his face and he hesitated before carefully gripping her wrist and moving her hand away.

"Right, right, no touchy feely, sorry," she said, clasping her hands together and putting them in her lap. "Just… out of curiosity, any idea how long this phase will last? I mean, how long does it usually last?"

"Well, last time it lasted until approximately one day before she decided not to have anything more to do with me on a personal level."

His tone had been perfectly bland, but she knew the words had more meaning than that.

"Well, her loss is my gain," Christine stated with a cheerful smile. "I'm sorry that it probably hurt your feelings, but I'm personally glad that she was a flighty bimbo."

"I never said she was a flighty bimbo," he said, but cracked a smile despite his mildly censoring tone.

"Actions speak louder than words," she answered with a shrug. "I can promise you that unless _you _are the one ending things, our relationship will not end a day after things get moderately physical and/or revealing. And no getting scared and backing off once you _do _decide I'm trustworthy; I don't wanna have to go all Glenn Close on your ass."

"You're going to try to kill my nonexistent wife?"

"Well, she can't press charges. I'm more peaceful than that though, maybe I would just stalk you and be all crazy and desperate."

"That's attractive," he joked.

"I know, right? I figure you won't be able to resist."

Shaking his head and smiling at her in an unmistakably tender fashion, he said, "As always, your logic is flawless."

Nodding proudly, she said, "Yep. I have a pretty wise teacher."

"Oh, I forgot to grade your test," he remarked. "I'll do it tomorrow."

"Whatever," she answered with a shrug. "It's nothing to get excited about—I could _feel _how badly I bombed it. I would frankly prefer if you never had to look at it, _ever._"

"Maybe the cat will eat it or something and you'll luck out."

"Damn, I _knew _I should have been a cat charmer instead of a snake charmer," she stated, shaking her head in mock disappointment. "What can snakes ever do for you?"

"Offer you forbidden fruit and/or death?"

"Wow, snakes _suck_."

Nodding, Erik said, "I don't believe I would choose to be stranded on a desert island with one."

"No. My vote definitely goes to either Jack Shepard or Sayid Jarrah."

Erik blinked.

"Lost?" she suggested, raising her eyebrow. "Meg made me watch every episode; she's deeply in love with Josh Holloway. You really never saw it?"

"I don't watch very much television," he explained.

"Yeah, I don't either anymore. Not enough time. The show's over though."

"Too bad," he said insincerely. "Should I turn this movie off?"

"No, no, no; I'm sorry, I'll stop talking." Then she made a visual indication of zipping her lips.

Erik offered her a little smile and then turned his attention back to the tv, and that time, instead of studying him, Christine followed suit.

-o-

As the night wore on, Christine—not able to cuddle and not sincerely interested in the movie—dozed off to sleep. Erik, being unaccustomed to being in such a situation, merely sat there in the dark for a couple of hours after the movie ended waiting to see if she would wake up, but she didn't.

It wasn't until her cell phone went off—at precisely 3:14 am—that Christine jerked awake, blearily reaching for her phone and catching Erik's thigh instead.

"You're not my headboard," she stated.

Smiling to himself, Erik verified, "No, I am not."

"My headboard doesn't talk," she said, as if there needed to be further proof. "What's that… my phone—where's my phone?"

Since it was the only thing in the dark room emitting light, he easily indicated it on the coffee table in front of them.

Reaching out and grabbing for it with a pretty frown, she scrunched up her nose and saw Meg's name flashing across the screen.

Bringing the phone to her ear and not even bothering with a greeting, she said, "Meg, this had better be _really _freaking important."

Giggling drunkenly, Meg said, "It is! I love you."

"I love you slightly, but less by the moment. That is not important enough to wake me out of my pleasant sleep."

"I can't find my key—my purse ate it! Please come let me in."

"Meg," Christine whined. "I'm not even downstairs; your purse did not eat your key. Find it or sleep outside in the hallway."

"You're _mean_; why aren't you home?"

"Because," Christine answered unhelpfully.

"Oh my God! I totally just found my key," Meg said excitedly.

"You suck," Christine informed her best friend. "I'm going back to bed."

"Okay. Have fun and be safe—we don't need any baby geniuses running around confusing auntie Meg with all the foreign languages it speaks before it can walk, mmkay?"

"Oh, my God. I'm hanging up now. I should never have told you in a text message."

"I know, that's so true, but you were excited! It's okay. We will talk about it in _great _detail tomorrow."

"Good _night_, Meg."

Meg giggled, then she wished her friend good night, but Christine was already hanging it up, painfully aware of how loud the cell phone was in the otherwise dead silent room.

Dropping the phone back on the coffee table, she tilted her head back in Erik's lap to peer up at him. "How much did you hear?"

"A gentleman closes his ears when the creation of baby geniuses is being inappropriately discussed."

"Oh my _God_, I'm going to kill her," she stated, covering her face.

Laughing lightly, Erik said, "Don't worry, I didn't plan to create any future generations tonight anyway. No reason to be embarrassed."

She uncovered her face just long enough to shoot him a disbelieving look, then she covered it again.

"Actually, now that Meg has interrupted your sleep, perhaps we should call it a night?"

"I'm so sorry I fell asleep," she said, deciding to give up the embarrassment and uncover her face again. "I was just so comfortable—oh, man, I started cuddling you again, didn't I?"

"You're a very affectionate sleeper," Erik allowed.

"Ugh. I'm sorry. You should have… pushed me in the floor or something."

"I would hardly do that. I would have let you continue sleeping, I just assumed you might prefer to move to a bed—it would probably be more comfortable than my leg serving as a pillow for the rest of the night."

"Oh, of course. I'm sure you weren't comfortable either. You definitely should have nudged me awake and just moved me, Erik. Stop being such a gentleman all the time."

"I'm afraid it's in my nature," he explained with a little smile. Then, getting to his feet, he stretched and turned around to offer her his hand.

Smiling, Christine took his hand and stood, easily using the momentum to situation herself against his chest, absently leaning in and hugging him. "Which way to the bedroom, maestro?"

Had it been light—and had she been looking—she would have seen the look of shock that immediately registered on his face, but since she missed it, Erik took a few seconds, cleared his surprise, and managed, "Uh… this way."

"I don't think I've ever heard you say 'uh' before," she stated, smiling as she walked, still nestled against him. "I promise I won't try to seduce you—unless you want me to, of course, but at this point you would probably have to make the first move on that one. I'm cautious of even touching you since whatever bimbo came before me made you all skittish about touching."

With a barely stifled smile, Erik ushered Christine down a hall. "Are you sure you want to spend the night? Meg won't worry, will she?"

"Nope, she knows where I am. When Meg has a boyfriend, she stays over at his house all the time. Right now she's just having a dry spell, but she's making progress with Conor. As a matter of fact, there was an awful lot of giggling—she probably brought him back tonight. Thank God I don't have to listen to _that _through the wall." Pausing, just realizing that she had invited herself to stay, she stopped and looked up at Erik. "Wait, when you suggested we relocate to a bed, you _did _mean your bed, didn't you?"

Without even the slightest hesitation, Erik lied, "Of course."

"Oh, good," she said, relaxing. "For a second there I thought maybe I had invited myself, and I didn't want to be _that _presumptuous. It's just, you know, sleeping in bed with someone isn't a big deal anymore. I had a couple of guy friends sleep over in high school, and I slept over at their house before. It's not like I'm moving my own toothbrush in after an evening or anything."

"I didn't think you were," Erik said to put her mind at ease. "Wait, this is it. It's dark, walk carefully," he advised, pushing the door open and ushering her inside.

"You don't sleep in that thing, do you?" she asked, indicating the mask. "It's as dark as a dungeon in here, I couldn't see you even if—"

"Nice try," he interrupted, smiling gently. "Normally I don't sleep in it, but I will tonight."

"Erik, that can't be comfortable. I can sleep on the couch if you're not—"

"Don't be ridiculous, you are most certainly _not _sleeping on the couch. This mask is perfectly comfortable, I assure you. I'd be less comfortable without it."

"I could go back to my apartment," she offered. "If you'd rather—"

"You may stay the night, Christine. I don't mind at all."

It didn't escape him how ironic it was to be talking her into spending the night when that had been the last thing he expected her to do when he initially invited her—or even when she fell asleep in his lap. He had naturally assumed that she would wake up and go home, but he had been unaware of the apparently casual sleepovers that males and females had together.

On that note, he decided to pry just a little. "So… these young men you've fallen asleep with before…?"

She waited for him to go on, but when he didn't, she offered a smile and said, "Strictly friends, I promise. No funny business, as my dad used to say."

He nodded, feeling satisfied but not showing how much. The thought of some foolish boy with his hands on _his_ Christine… well, it was not a welcome thought.

"And the boy?"

"Raoul?" she asked, eyebrows rising. "Nothing happened there, either. Are we having this talk already? My sexual history is quite clear, just a few kisses and cuddles scattered about, nothing more. And he didn't spend the night—you must not have been watching my hallway closely enough, because I kicked him out. Ironically, so _you _wouldn't get mad at me, but that didn't work out the way I intended."

"It all worked out the way you intended in the long run, didn't it?"

Grinning up at him as she felt the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed, she said, "_Better _than I could have planned, actually. Do you prefer one side over the other?"

"Excuse me?"

"The bed," she said, turning and lightly gesturing. "Some people are particular about which side they sleep on…"

"Oh. No, have whichever side you want."

She gave him a cute little smile, which was one of his earlier indications that letting Christine into his bed was a bad idea, but then she climbed across the bed and slipped under the covers, patting the bed next to her.

"I like the side by the wall."

"Then you may have it," he said with a nod, hesitating a moment before climbing into bed, fully dressed.

Erik didn't have to maneuver much to get comfortable, so it was altogether new to him when Christine had to wriggle around like a worm, turning this way and that, finally ending up on her stomach with one arm curled beneath her and one flung casually across his waist, her face nestled against his side as she looked up at him, quite awake. Then she gave him a little smile.

Indicator number two came in the form of Christine's sweet, "Don't I get a good night kiss?"

Stifling a groan of frustration, Erik reached over and placed a kiss on her forehead, but when he pulled back, she was looking at him quite dryly.

"Really? Okay, I'll give _you _a good night kiss then."

He barely had time to breathe before she leaned in to kiss him, resting her slight body weight directly on top of his, causing fire to shoot everywhere her body was touching and then spread. It was difficult to bite back and oath, resist shoving her away and leaping off the bed as if he had literally been burned. The damn girl would be the death of him, he was certain, but as her little tongue darted out, tasting his own mouth, he was undone by the tiny little moan of pleasure she produced, one of her hands coming up to rake through his hair.

Oh, God.

Erik's arms fastened around her waist, unthinkingly pulling her completely on top of him, feeling the press of her pelvis across his increasingly uncomfortable midsection.

The hand that wasn't lightly playing with his hair moved to the hem of his pants, moving up under his shirt to lightly press her fingers against the skin of his belly. Her hand moved upwards, gliding across his skin as if it had every right to be there until she made it to his chest, then she caressed him, tilting her head to deepen the kiss.

If his entire body didn't explode, he would count himself sincerely surprised.

Then Christine playfully nipped at his bottom lip and he thought he might die.

Since he figured it was better safe than sorry, he pulled back as much as he could with Christine so thoroughly in control of the situation and said as lightly as he could, "I thought… you were giving me a _goodnight _kiss."

"I am," she said, smiling as she eased back down on the bed, no longer on top of him, merely wrapping her arm snugly around his torso. "I was making sure I had good dreams tonight."

He needed a shower. A very, very, very cold shower. There might need to be ice cubes. His unfortunate body had actually never been in such exquisite discomfort.

Torn between the practical problem of an arousal that was becoming quite painful with her small body pressed against his, and the desire not to abruptly leave the room and make her feel like she had done something wrong, Erik settled with miserably pondering how he was supposed to keep his hands off of his affectionate little student. Because he _had _to keep his hands off of her at least until she wasn't his student anymore, and with Christine's guileless invitations to do otherwise… well, that was going to be damned difficult.

"Would you mind if I take my shirt off and just sleep in my cami top?" Christine asked.

Erik's eyes widened. "What?"

"This shirt," she said, indicating the cranberry button-down confection she was wearing. "It's satin, so it's getting all wrinkly. I'm wearing a shirt underneath so I won't be naked or anything, it's just lacy and…"

Oh dear lord, he had stopped listening at lacy.

"Miss Daaé, are you trying to seduce me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Would it work?" she teased.

"Meg advised you against just such a thing, I do believe."

"That's why God made condoms," she stated solemnly.

"I'm quite certain _God _didn't make condoms, and even if He did, I don't have any."

Christine grinned, shaking her head a little and said, "I'm not trying to seduce you. We've only been a couple for like ten minutes; the last thing I want you to think is that I'm a floozy."

The last thing he possibly _could_ think was that she was a floozy, but he wasn't about to say that. His self-control had already been stretched impossibly thin for the evening, and he didn't want to invite anymore temptations.

One thing was for certain—if Christine wanted to continue in the music program as he intended to guide her toward doing, she was going to be his student again even if he made it out of the _current _semester without breaking all sorts of ethical rules.

That wouldn't do at all.

Putting it at the top of his to-do list, he resolved to come up with an acceptable solution to that problem the following day after Christine left.

Apparently giving up on the idea of half undressing, she moved around until she was comfortably nestled against him again. Then her arm squeezed him a little tighter, she smiled at him adorably, and his heart plummeted. Thankfully, the little minx closed her eyes then, apparently content as a kitten, and within a couple of minutes, she had drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

As for Erik, sleep did not come to save him nearly as soon, or in fact, at all. Christine—already affectionate in her waking life—was equally as affectionate while she slept. She would toss and turn, shift and sigh. He startled, thinking she had woken up at least 50 times before the sun began to filter in through the dark curtains of his windows, but she never did. She looked quite peaceful, curled up against him, not letting go even once while she slept. For the entire six hours, Erik lay awake, watching her. It was nice, being able to look at her and not having to look away, being able to study her as she lay nestled against him, to caress her hair or lightly touch her hand on his own terms.

Of course, sleeping would have been nice. He didn't typically require very much sleep, but a couple of hours to reboot would have been appreciated.

Not that he should complain. He had never actually had such an endearing female so contentedly curled up against him while she slept, and he had never actually thought to. Years earlier he had contented himself to being alone, and he had thought he was quite resigned to the fact.

"Oh, Christine."

Her eyes fluttered open, peering up at him questioningly, and he realized the last part had been murmured aloud.

"Go back to sleep," he whispered.

Smiling sleepily, she sighed a little and said, "I thought I was dreaming."

"You probably were," he reasoned, smiling slightly.

"No, silly. I meant this," she said, squeezing him lightly for emphasis. "I didn't want to open my eyes because I thought you might disappear."

Chuckling lightly to himself at her insensible sleepy murmuring, he absently smoothed down her hair, lightly brushing his fingers along the edge of her face, and said, "I'm not a ghost; I won't disappear."

"Good," she said with a decisive nod, placing a little kiss on his clothed chest, right over his heart.

When she did, his heart skipped a beat, but he was sure she hadn't felt it.

Then she closed her eyes and drifted right back to sleep, and that time he followed her.

* * *

**A/N:** That's all for now, just a little bit of E/C happy fluff. :) Hope you guys enjoyed!


	16. The Scarecrow and The Lion

**A/N:** Hey guys! Thanks so much for the feedback. On a related note, I did not realize that the FF default must be to disable anonymous reviews, which I think is just silly. Anyway, I fixed it and anonymous reviews are now possible and welcomed—I apologize to anyone who tried to give feedback and got that rude, "this person does not accept anonymous reviews" message. I hate that thing. :)

Anyway, this chapter is going to be a bit different from my normal ones; I'm going to shift perspective just slightly. I haven't left Christine out of a lot of scenes thus far, but there are a couple of scenes in this one that she needn't be part of but you guys obviously need to be privy to, so… POV shift will be implemented temporarily. This was just the only way I could explore this situation thoroughly enough, and next chapter everything will be snapped back to the normal/appropriate Erik and Christine Points of View.

**FortunesFavour;** You are totally right—Desmond would indeed be nifty to be stranded on an island with! Lol, glad you liked the reference! :) Sawyer was always my favorite, but Desmond was pretty darn awesome!

**Fifteen:** A Dharma initiative shirt? ? ? That is _so_ cool! lol

**Debkay:** TOTALLY with you on the phantom angst thing—that's part of why I wrote this story. I understand that a certain level of angst is to be expected, but _come on_. Erik deserves a bit o' happy, and so do POTO phans. :) I'm glad you like the shadowing—I like to play on some essentials of the original story, even in my modern day setting, and I figured what better way than to use humor? :)

-o-

When Christine came creeping into her apartment the next morning, she was as careful as could be to be quiet and keep from waking Meg.

Since she and Erik had slept in until nearly 11, even Meg was already up, watching in amusement as she sat on the couch with a cup of coffee, watching Christine try to tiptoe into her bedroom.

"Young lady, where do you think you're going?"

Spinning around guiltily, Christine gave her friend a wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights look. "You're awake," she said with forced brightness.

"Of course I am. My little girl is all grown up," she said, making an exaggerated pout.

Rolling her eyes, Christine said, "Don't get too far ahead of yourself, Mom."

"You totally spent the night with him. You don't just _spend the night _with guys you've been dating for a freaking day, Christine."

Giving in to the urge to be girly, Christine grinned and made her way over to plop down on the couch next to her best friend, sighing heavily and throwing herself back into the soft couch cushions. "I like him _so _much. I can't even comprehend or express why or how. I mean, by all rights, I should _not _be this comfortable around him, but… I don't know, it's just… it's so natural, like we were meant to… like we're _supposed _to be together, like we were _fated _by destiny to be that way or something."

"Ew, you're in love," Meg said, wrinkling her nose up, but amused all the same.

Shoving her friend lightly, Christine said, "I can't be in love, I haven't known him long enough. But… assuming nothing drags me off this path, I do imagine that's where I'll end up. I just wish I could somehow explain it to you so that it would make sense… it's like my feelings for Erik are a higher order or something, not so shallow as merely being in love. It's like our very souls were designed to complement each other."

Quirking her eyebrow, Meg said, "Hon, you can't spout shit like that and try to say you aren't in love. You totally slept with him."

"I did _not _sleep with him," Christine stated.

"You've lied to me before to try to protect him—don't lie to me about this. If my best friend finally gave it up, I _deserve _to know that."

"I didn't," she insisted, shaking her head. "It's not like that, Meg. It isn't just about sex. I mean, don't get me wrong, we flirt shamelessly and talk about sex as if we're the most experienced of lovers, but it's all play. I've certainly never been with anyone, and… well, according to Erik, his own experience is limited, although I don't know precisely _how _limited. He _might _have slept with this one bitch who dumped him the next day because he took off his mask, but I'm not sure. Either way, neither of us is exactly Don Juan, if you know what I mean."

"Are, you guys will be so cute, fumbling around in the dark together."

"Stop," Christine said, smiling nonetheless.

"So you really didn't have sex?"

"Really didn't have sex. We fell asleep watching this boring French film and then when you called we relocated to his bedroom just to be more comfortable, but I could barely coax a goodnight kiss out of him."

"Maybe he's gay," Meg offered.

"No, he's just a good teacher," Christine explained. "Plus, he isn't the affectionate type. _That's _hard to deal with. You know me; I'm affectionate even when I'm _not _dating a guy. Raoul and I weren't even dating and he loved to cuddle with me, even right out in public at the club. I'm not at all used to someone who stiffens every time I touch him."

"Well, in all fairness, Raoul is hot as hell and he doesn't have anything worth hiding under a mask. Being extremely attractive probably makes him a lot more confident."

"Erik's attractive," Christine argued sullenly.

"What you can see of him," Meg said practically. "Did he take the mask off? He wouldn't have slept in the damn thing, right?"

Shaking her head with a regretful sigh, Christine said, "He slept in the damn thing. Like I said, the last girl apparently ditched him the day after he let her see or something like that. Now he thinks I'll run screaming in horror when I see whatever he has hidden under there."

"What do you think it is?" Meg asked, making a delicate face. "I mean… if he makes such a fuss about it, it probably _is _pretty bad, right? Half of his face is decent, so why resort to such extreme measures to hide the other half?"

"I really wish I knew," Christine admitted. "I'm imagining it _is _bad, and I wish I could be prepared, that way in case it's… more awful than I can imagine, I'm prepared when he _does _open up to me. He's too sensitive about it; one wrong reaction and I could ruin everything."

"Should've looked while he was sleeping," Meg stated.

"No, that would be cheating. He'll show me when he's ready. Next time I get Meredith alone I might ask her if she thinks I need preparing."

"Great idea." She missed a beat, then she said, "So, now that you and the Naughty Professor have officially gone hot and heavy, am I ever going to get another weekend with you again?"

"Of course; I had to work last night and it was our first chance to do that."

"I know. I just want to make sure you're not going to be one of those girls that ditches her friends when she gets a boyfriend. I love you, so I'd hate to have to kick your ass."

"No ass-kicking will be required."

Meg paused again, assessing her friend, then she said, "He was asking about you last night."

"Prince William? I swear, the poor boy will never understand why I refuse to be his princess."

"I'm pretty sure _he's _perfectly content with Kate Middleton, but _Raoul _was more interested in finding out why you weren't around than attending to one of his little groupies."

"Well… Erik made it very clear that Raoul is a no-go; I can't hang out with him when Erik's not around, and I'm certainly not going to hang out with him _with _Erik around, so…"

"Well, I don't like _that_. Boyfriends shouldn't tell you who you're allowed to hang out with."

"It's not Erik's fault, it's mine for kissing Raoul and sort of using him to irk Erik. It wasn't very nice to me, but I think Machiavelli would have approved whole-heartedly."

"The end justified the means, huh? Well, I still don't like it. It's not like you'd ever cheat on Erik—you have your head so far up his ass that I already miss you."

"Hey! I do not. I'm allowed to be smitten—you're smitten all the time, don't I get a free pass just once?"

"All right, all right, you have a point," Meg allowed, rolling her eyes. "Still."

"Still nothing. Erik isn't keeping me from doing anything I _want _to do; Raoul and I aren't kids in a Wizard of Oz play anymore, Meg, we have _nothing _in common."

"All I'm saying is, Raoul isn't going to like it. For whatever reason, the guy still has a thing for you. It's like the worse you treat him, the more he likes you."

"Well, he will just have to get over that," Christine stated primly. "I finally have Erik, and I can assure you _Raoul _isn't going to be the downfall of that."

-o-

Raoul Chagny could not possibly explain why he couldn't leave Christine Daaé alone…

Well, no, that wasn't true. He had talked about her as extensively as he ever talked about women to his therapist, and together they had concluded that his growing attraction to Christine was not at all outside the realm of his personality; being extremely spoiled by absent parents with oversized bank accounts, Raoul could have pretty much anything that he wanted at any time that he wanted it. If his father said no—which was rare—then he would turn to his mother, who at times felt guilty for focusing more on her career than her children, and she would inevitably give him the okay. When he wrecked his new car three months after his 16th birthday, it had been no problem to get a replacement by the following week. When Tracy Chapman already had a date to prom junior year, no expense had been spared to change her mind, which he did with almost disappointing ease.

Getting what he wanted wasn't even fun anymore.

Unless the thing he wanted proved difficult to grasp. Even the thought of the very selective law school program—which at first had excited him, since getting into such a selective program would be a challenge—lost its appeal once he learned that his way was paved by his parents, and he was what you might call a "shoo in."

If you could have anything you wanted, where was the thrill? Where was the feeling of accomplishment once you held it in your arms?

Incidentally, he had gone through a fair amount of casual, incredibly short-lived relationships with social climbers who looked at Raoul and saw the Chagny name with starry eyes.

Those girls didn't interest him at all. They became, in a sense, interchangeable. Sometimes he would be talking to one of them on the phone—dutiful boyfriend duty—and completely forget which one she was. Was it Monica, or Jocelyn? Did it matter? Not really.

But there were some girls, the ones who weren't at all impressed by him, the ones that didn't know who he was, or the ones who were already interested in someone else, therefore _not _interested in him, that he _enjoyed _pursuing. He didn't think it made him a bad person, or spoke poorly of his character; as his therapist seemed to agree, it really made sense. He had learned to expect instant gratification, so only when that gratification was delayed did he stand up and take notice.

Christine Daaé was just such an example.

From the very start, he had felt like she was disinterested in him. There was no starry-eyed look on her face, no adoration, not even a particular partiality to him over, say, the sweater-vest-wearing geek that walked past them while they talked. At no point did she seem impressed, and she made a _habit _of completely blowing him off.

Not that he was a fool, of course. Despite her indifference toward him, she still agreed to come to the club with him, still let him kiss her, still seemed to _like _him… just not as much as he expected her to.

He liked that about her.

As masochistic as it seemed, the more she acted like she didn't care, the more he wanted her to care.

He liked the challenge.

Sure, he liked _her_, too; he would never waste his time if he didn't.

But it was the challenge she represented that kept reeling him back in when he would decide to call up a more amenable girl to go out with.

_Why _didn't she like him enough? _Why _wasn't she impressed?

It all seemed rather egotistical, he realized, so he never acknowledged it aloud outside of his therapist's office—not that he needed to see one of those, either, it was just something his mother had the whole family do for as long as he could remember. Since she didn't have time to keep tabs on her kids much of the time, she wanted someone else to make sure they were all right.

All of that, it seemed, was what convinced him that even after that disastrous movie date, it would be a good idea to "bump into her" after class on Monday with that Juliet girl from his German philosophy class. She was pretty, blonde hair, blue eyes, perfect figure, and she was _smart_, too, not that Christine would probably get to see that. Still, if Christine liked him enough to get jealous, it would mean all hope wasn't lost. On the other hand, if she appeared sincerely unconcerned, he might have to accept that he had simply lost that one and move on. They would still be friends, of course, so the future could hold any number of possibilities, but he was only _interested _in her, not _obsessed_.

Desperate, clingy people were obsessed.

Raoul Chagny was never that.

He would allow that it might be _vaguely _pathetic to actually wait outside of her music theory class, talking to that blonde girl, but he would forgive himself that little lapse, and no one else ever needed to know about it.

"I just think Heidegger is brilliant, I don't care what anyone says. I mean, I understand how some people could get distressed about his opinions concerning Hitler, but I think if you look at them within the context that he meant them…"

Raoul nodded, tuning her out as he spotted a small but steady flow of people out of the music theory classroom. Of course, as he watched each person, he saw that none of them were Christine.

She was _always _the last person out of the damn classroom.

"I mean, okay, I understand that being a Nazi—not such a good thing, but that doesn't mean…"

Good God, did that girl ever shut up? She had been yapping nonstop ever since they left class—and she was still _talking _about class.

"And another thing," she said passionately, while Raoul briefly smiled at her, wordlessly encouraging her to go on before he returned his attention back to the doorway.

For another minute—that felt like ten—no one else filed out of the room, and then, _finally _Christine came out, backing out of the doorway since she was turned around, talking to someone. Raoul smiled slightly at her dark bouncy curls—she really was so beautiful, and he truly, truly enjoyed her. If he could just manage to catch her, it would be perfect. She could be his girlfriend, and… she would hopefully not talk about German philosophers for hours on end, because that would be really great.

"Yeah, you know, Nazis… are people, too," he offered weakly.

"Sure, and, I mean, just because that was his personal decision in his personal life…"

Christine turned, briefly glancing in Raoul's direction, and for some reason he found himself ducking back a little, letting the back of Jill's head be the only thing she saw.

Wait, that hadn't been his plan.

But who was she talking to? He was supposed to casually bump into her, "Oh, hey, Christine, this is Julia," but… she wasn't supposed to be absorbed in conversation.

The man she was talking to closed the class room door, smiling slightly at whatever she was saying, and he realized it was her professor—that weird masked guy who always gave her a hard time and a bad grade on her papers. She hated that bastard, didn't she? Why was she talking to him? Maybe trying to soften him up so she didn't fail, he thought sympathetically.

Toning out the girl he was standing with, he listened as Christine said, "I _knew _that, too, that's what really kills me. I mean… I _really _knew that."

"I'm sure you did," the masked man said.

"I… I've never gotten such a terrible grade in my _life_," she stated, looking down at the paper she was clutching as they made their way out of the alcove and in the opposite direction down the hall.

Impulsively deciding to follow—she would lose the prof once they got to the end of the hall, and bumping into her farther away from her own classroom would look less planned anyway—Raoul motioned for Juliet to walk with him, making some murmured excuse about coffee as he more quietly told her to continue.

Following his lead, she lowered her voice as she continued to talk about… was she really talking about Nazis? Good lord, no wonder he had stopped listening.

"Yeah, sure, just misunderstood," he murmured, frowning a little at how fast Christine and the professor seemed to be walking.

Picking up his pace and tuning out his classmate yet again, he finally picked up on Christine's much lovelier tones again as she appealed to the man, "This is going to demolish my grade in your class; are you still willing to work something out with a do-over or extra credit or something?"

"We'll work something out," he agreed, nodding. Raoul couldn't see either of their faces, obviously, but he was finally close enough to hear them clearly over the droning beside him.

"Okay. When?"

"Well, I have some things to do right now, but perhaps we can work it out later when you come by my apartment."

Christine nodded mutely.

"I know you're busy with everything, but if you want to keep your grades up in my class, you _are _going to have to make some more time to work at it. I did warn you up front that I was a strict taskmaster."

"I know, I know, I was just… distracted that day."

"I know you were. Like I said, don't worry. You'll come over tonight, we'll get everything straightened out. Next time, just study more, ask questions if you have them… then you can avoid this situation."

Christine nodded again, then she said, "Thank you. I know you don't normally… give extra credit, and I—"

The professor cut her off, saying, "It isn't preferential treatment; this was _my _idea, remember?"

Christine's curls bounced, indicating another nod.

"Well, thanks anyway," she said.

That time he nodded, slowing down, and he said, "I have a faculty meeting, but I'll see you later. Is six o'clock okay, or should we wait until later?"

"I don't have a lot of homework; six is fine," Christine answered. Then, with a little smile, she said, "_Hasta la vista_."

"_A tout à l'heure_," he responded.

With that, she hoisted her bag on her shoulder and turned left at the stair well while the masked man continued down the hall, glancing back at her briefly before she disappeared down the stair well.

For a moment, once Christine descended the stairs, Raoul could only stand there, dumb-founded, eyebrows knit together in confusion.

What the hell…

Why would Christine be meeting the professor she didn't even like at his _apartment_, of all places? Raoul had met with professors in their offices, but you didn't meet with a professor in their _apartment_.

And _that_ guy? The weird guy who wore a mask every day—who the hell wore _masks _unless they were in a hospital or at a costume party? Obviously the guy was a few cards short of a deck, but of course plenty of brilliant people were, so he was probably some damn Nobel Prize winner or something…

Letting that thought go, a new one slammed into his head.

Christine was getting horrible grades in the weird guy's class. Christine, a gorgeous young student of his, one with promise and intelligence, but sadly no family of any standing. She couldn't even afford to _be _at Columbia—was running herself ragged trying to make ends meet even as her tuition bills sent her spiraling into debt. The poor girl wasn't getting bad grades because she was stupid, but because she didn't have the time to invest…

Stopping himself, he irritably reminded himself it didn't matter _why _she was getting bad grades, but she was. That professor probably saw her struggling, saw her desperation to do well in school…

His "aha!" moment came when he laced together the sheer improbability of a beauty like Christine ever paying even a second glance to someone who looked like her professor if he wasn't in some position of authority over her, with Christine's desperate circumstances and their appointed meeting at his apartment later that evening for extra credit.

Aha!

He understood!

And it all made sense!

Christine was being taken advantage of!

Her grades were low and her professor was odd, so he saw an opportunity to offer his beautiful student a way out of the black hole her GPA was creeping into—his bed!

The bastard!

No wonder Christine seemed disinterested in Raoul—it wasn't that she didn't like him, but that she was dealing with a complicated situation concerning her teacher. Christine was such a good, kind girl, she would never want to say anything—she probably pitied the masked bastard, and he probably played right into that.

Oh, Christine.

The messes that poor girl got herself into.

The more he thought on it—as he and Chatty Cathy made their way down the same stair well Christine had disappeared into—the more it made sense. This wasn't the first time he had _seen _the masked man, not even the first time he had made a mental note of her odd behavior after seeing him. The one day when he had met her after class, she had seemed pleased to see him at first, but then she had looked back over her shoulder nervously toward the classroom, then she had hustled him out of the hallway. He had thought nothing of it, but what if it was because of her professor? Had he already been making advances on her—perhaps she knew he would be threatened if he thought Christine had a young, virile boyfriend waiting for her after class, and she feared her grades would suffer even more.

That wretch. That villain!

And then there was the night at the bar—hadn't he seen Christine go off course on her way to the bathroom when she had spotted her teacher at the bar? Had he been _stalking _her?

Good God, had Christine been terrorized by this mad man all semester?

Why wasn't he a better listener? She might have told him, confided in him. He could have swept in and saved her somehow—or spoken to his parents, who could speak to the board, at any rate—and he could have spared Christine the attentions of that miserable, perverted old man.

Poor Christine! No wonder she was so stressed out all the time.

Well, now that he knew what was going on, he would be damned if he sat by and watched the miserable excuse for a man continue to take advantage of his poor Christine.

Oh no.

He would protect Christine from that odious monster, or his name wasn't Raoul Chagny.

-o-

That evening, as Raoul and his friends sat around at the sports bar, eating cheese sticks and having a couple of beers, it occurred to Raoul that he might want to be _sure _before he went charging to Christine's rescue. He couldn't think of any other logical explanation for what he had witnessed—was quite sure that he understood what was going on—but before he set out to defend her honor, he wanted to be absolutely sure he wasn't misunderstanding everything and making an ass of himself.

He would call Christine, he decided. It was a little after four, and he knew she was meeting her teacher at six. Of course, _she _wouldn't know that he knew that, so if he called her and asked her to hang out around the same time, he could see what her explanation was. If she seemed uncomfortable and depending on what her response was, he would feel more certain. If she very casually said she had a date or something—although _that _was surely a stretch, as if Christine really wanted to have a paltry affair with a professor, she would certainly at least choose an attractive one—then he would know he had read the situation wrong, miracles apparently _did _happen, and she didn't need rescuing, just… perhaps some counseling to deal with the daddy issues that she obviously had…

That would be creepy, and not his problem.

But a lecherous teacher preying on an innocent young girl… well, that he couldn't stand for. Especially not when the young girl was Christine, and Raoul wanted her for himself.

That prick.

Extracting his phone from his pocket, Raoul whirled around on his stool and gestured to Conor that he was going to take a call outside. Conor nodded, and Raoul walked out of the noisy bar to make his phone call.

"Hello," Christine answered, sounding none too excited.

"Hey, Christine. It's Raoul."

"Yep, I got the memo," she answered. "How are you doing?"

"Great, great. How are you?"

"Same here," she said easily enough. "Just studying a lot, you know."

"Yeah, definitely. Hey, listen. I remembered you were talking about that movie you wanted to see, and it's playing tonight at 6:15. What do you say we go see it? We could even grab some dinner before or after if you want to."

"Oh…. Yeah, I can't, sorry."

"It doesn't have to be just the two of us," he added impulsively, knowing he had more success getting her to hang out in groups. "Meg and Conor could come with us. Even my friend Juliet from class, she mentioned she might like to see that one, too."

"It's nice that you're willing to suffer through a chick flick, really, but I just can't. I have to… study. Sorry."

"All by yourself?"

"Of course," she answered just a tad too quickly.

"Well, why don't I come over and help you study? We can buckle down and study hard together, then after we could catch a later showing or a bite to eat or something. We'll take Meg."

"No. No, I… prefer to study alone, thanks. Look, Raoul, I really have to go, I have a… the other line, it's beeping, or flashing, or… whatever. Anyway, thanks for the offer, bye!"

Before he had to worry about saying goodbye, she had already hung up the phone.

Well, there was his answer.

Obviously she was lying, but she _had _admitted she was 'studying.'

Sighing as he headed back into the bar, he contemplated how he would go about righting the situation for Christine.

-o-

The following day, as he headed into the emptying class room of some music-oriented class he had already forgotten the name of—chroma or chromatic something or other?—he squared his shoulders and stood tall as he stepped inside, turning to look at the figure seated at the front of the class. The man was still bent over his table, writing something down, and the masked side of his face was the side visible to Raoul. None of the students in _that _class lagged behind; the class had emptied in record time, and Raoul took another look at his opponent.

The man appeared to be tall, even sitting down, and quite thin. All he could see of his face at that angle was the mask, and for a moment, he got caught on that—why was he wearing a mask? Did he _always _wear a mask? Had he been injured or something and it was only temporary? Was he as odd as he seemed to Raoul?

Yes, he had to be.

A torturer of innocent young women _should _have a creepy appearance; it only seemed right.

Squaring his shoulders once more, he strolled directly over to Erik, his expression one of no-nonsense and righteous protectiveness.

Obviously no longer able to ignore the lingering presence in front of him, Erik drawled, "May I help you with something?"

It irked Raoul that he didn't even have the decency to look up at him when he was asking—the arrogant bastard. No wonder Christine hated this guy. He made you feel two inches tall and even less significant.

When Raoul remained silent—he would be damned if he would answer without even the courtesy of eye contact—Erik finally dropped the pen, sat back, and looked up.

For a split second, Raoul saw something else register on Erik's face—a look of distaste?—but then Erik's expression became condescendingly bland as he stated, "I don't recognize you from any of my classes."

"I'm not _in _any of your classes," Raoul returned. "I'm not a music major, I'm pre-law."

Erik looked briefly amused at the way Raoul felt compelled to reveal that entirely unnecessary piece of information.

"Congratulations," Erik said dryly. "Why are you in my classroom if you aren't one of my students?"

"A very good friend of mine is one of your students," Raoul stated, meeting Erik's gaze. Were his eyes _gold_? That was a little strange. A little… unsettling, too, and he suddenly wished he could break eye contact without it looking like he was backing down.

"Oh?" Erik responded, his face still completely clear of any expression, but his eyes still fastened to Raoul's.

Eyes beginning to burn, Raoul finally blinked, and when he did, he decided to look away. It wasn't a staring match, anyway, and the guy's eyes were really creepy.

The corner of Erik's lips twitched upward and unaccountably, Raoul felt a warm red tint creep up his neck.

Suddenly irritable, Raoul ground out, "I know what you're doing."

Even that hint of a smile disappeared and Erik merely gazed at Raoul mutely, as if to allow him to continue with his little speech or leave the room—he apparently didn't care either way.

"With Christine," Raoul specified, _really _wanting to get a reaction out of this guy. At first, it had just been about defending Christine, but he felt like the guy… looked down on him or something, and he just wanted to get a rise out of him, get a glimpse of fear in his gaze as he realized Raoul had figured out his game—he had been caught, and by the kid he was looking down his nose at.

Erik merely tilted his head very minutely to the side, as if trying to make sense of Raoul's spirited accusations.

Scowling a little, Raoul said, "I know that you're forcing her to…"

"Study?" Erik provided. "Yes, I am _quite _diabolical that way."

"I know you're forcing her to meet you at your apartment in exchange for fixing her grades," he blurted all at once, his eyes narrowing on Erik's still unresponsive face. He thought he saw a tick in Erik's jaw, but as soon as he refocused, it was gone, and he wasn't sure if it had happened or not.

"That's quite an accusation," Erik said calmly. "I certainly hope you have some kind of evidence to back up this ridiculous claim. But then… I'm sure you do, right, _counselor_?"

Was he _mocking _him? Was the bastard really mocking him when Raoul was telling him he knew he was making a student have sex with him?

"I was being nice coming to you," Raoul stated irritably. "I could have just gone to the Dean with this, but I…" Gesturing wordlessly at Erik's face, Raoul merely made a look of disgust directed at himself and he said, "I figured… I mean, obviously…"

Erik didn't say a word to help him along, and Raoul resented him for it.

"Obviously you don't have the pick of the litter, okay? And I understand that, and I felt… I empathized enough to warn you, but it doesn't make what you're doing all right, and it sure as hell doesn't mean I'm going to let you get away with it."

"So, you're _warning _me that you know of a fictional crime that I haven't committed… which I suppose is quite noble of you, in a certain light."

Was he _still _mocking him? After he had extended him the courtesy of a warning because he was some kind of pitiful freak in a mask who had to prey on innocent girls to get any attention from them at all?

Erik's expression was too clear—Raoul couldn't tell if he really was being mocked, or if he was taking everything too personally. After all, the teacher didn't even _know _him.

"What is the punishment for my fictional crime?"

"What?" Raoul asked, frowning.

"Well, I imagine—in light of you extending me the courtesy of this pity warning—that you have something in mind, some sort of… _settlement_, if you will. Some kind of compromise that I'm supposed to make if I want to keep my tracks covered."

He _had _to be mocking him.

"I don't want you to see Christine anymore," Raoul stated. "Outside of class, I mean. Obviously you still have to see her in class, but…you will be strictly professional, and you will make no attempts to see her outside of class, including her place of work. If I find out that you've broken this agreement, I'm going directly to the Dean with everything I know."

Leaning back in his chair as if he had never been more comfortable in his life, Erik gazed at Raoul speculatively. At first, Raoul assumed he was going to respond, agree to his terms or _something_, but Erik merely sat there, watching him with those odd golden eyes of his.

Just when Raoul was beginning to get extremely uncomfortable—he could swear he could see the man plotting ways to kill him and make it look like an accident—Erik gave him one more of those condescending smiles, clasping his hands together on the desk and looking up at Raoul, but not in a way that made Raoul _feel _like he was being looked up at.

"While it is quite _heroic_ of you to try to save your _friend _from her lecherous professor, I'm afraid you have your facts all wrong, counselor. I do not trade grades for sex, even as pitiful and desperate as a masked man must be."

Again with the condescension.

"I also appreciate your humanity in feeling bad for me because of this," Erik added, gesturing toward his mask. "That being said, you're wrong, so it's probably best for everyone that you came to me instead of charging off to the Dean with these lies. Admirable, how you wish to defend your _friend's _honor. I'm not sure that she would be happy to hear about this; I am familiar with Miss Daaé, and quite frankly you do her a disservice to suggest that she possesses so little intelligence and talent that she has to resort to offering sex to pass a class."

The way Erik reworded everything and delivered it so scathingly made Raoul feel… foolish, and… sheepish.

Wait! That's what he was _trying _to do. Lead him off the trail.

"I know you made her meet up with you at your apartment last night, I overheard you two talking."

Smiling with exaggerated patience, Erik explained, "I've been giving Miss Daaé voice lessons at my apartment—while she was there, I gave her a few minutes to go over a portion of her test and correct her answers."

"At your apartment? You expect me to believe that? You could do it here at the school if it was something so innocent."

"We could, but when Miss Daaé first requested additional voice tutoring she had a different job and worked different hours; the school was not available when she was, so we met at the music room in my apartment. Now I believe her schedule has changed, but she's comfortable practicing in my music room and we saw no reason to change anything."

Raoul went over all of that in his head for a moment, then he said, "So… you're _not _having sex with her?"

"I'm _not _having sex with her," Erik reiterated, practically smirking, as if amused at Raoul's expense. "Not for grades or any other reason."

"Then why does she keep blowing me off?" Raoul blurted, then immediately turned red. That part wasn't supposed to be uttered, but the question was reverberating inside of his head.

Smiling ironically, Erik suggested, "Perhaps she doesn't like lawyers."

That irritated Raoul, but as he replayed Erik's sensible explanation back to himself again, he began to feel quite… embarrassed.

"So… I guess what you said makes sense. If I find out you're lying though, I'm not warning you again, I'm going straight to the Dean."

"I'm sure Miss Daaé will appreciate that immensely; who doesn't love to be the center of a fictional sexual harassment investigation? She could be a campus celebrity—renown not for her musical ability or academic record, but for being the alleged target of the music professor who was actually only giving her voice lessons. Your plan is foolproof, boy; I'll be sure to alert Miss Daaé to her own good friend's astuteness at our next lesson, or perhaps after class tomorrow."

"No," Raoul said, the word bursting forth. "If… if I was wrong about everything, I don't want her to know that I… She'd _kill _me."

"How unfortunate for your future clients," Erik murmured dryly. "You know, I can't help wondering where you got all of your evidence, counselor. Why, I'm sure Miss Daaé would be _delighted _to know that you're so dedicated to her that you follow her after class, eavesdropping on the conversations she has with her professors. I mean, _some _people might find that rather… odd behavior, but I'm sure being such a good friend of yours, Miss Daaé would be flattered, wouldn't you say? Some might feel threatened by what is otherwise deemed as stalking, but she would probably feel… protected."

The tale Erik was weaving, that inexplicably persuading tone of his voice… _What was I thinking_? Raoul asked himself. What had seemed like a fantastic idea and a necessity to defend Christine against a predator suddenly seemed like a… poorly thought out and clumsily executed _disaster_. He should have asked _Christine_, not charged at her professor the way that he had. He should have been _completely _sure about what he knew…

"You won't… really tell her about this, will you?" Raoul asked a bit nervously. "I mean… this was an honest mistake—and you can see where I'm coming from. If Christine was your friend and you thought she was being taken advantage of by some bastard…"

"I have a sister," Erik stated, "so I can relate to your brotherly protectiveness. That said, I would not attempt to ruin another man's career unless I was absolutely sure of myself, and you were not so careful."

"I wouldn't have ruined your career—I was warning _you_. I came to you about it, not anyone else. I realize this has been… probably pretty insulting for you to listen to, and I apologize for that, but…"

"I'll tell you what. If you will cease stalking Miss Daaé, I will consider not telling her about it. However, if I find that you've broken this agreement, I will go directly to Miss Daaé with everything I know."

Having his own words delivered back to him was a bitter pill to swallow, and by the small glint in Erik's eyes, Raoul would bet that Erik knew it.

Raoul nodded sullenly, not sure of what else he could do in the corner he had backed himself into.

"I would also point out that stalking is _illegal_, and if I have any reason to question Christine's safety, it's entirely possible that I might have to take a leaf out of your book and go charging directly at the authorities. I admit, I never went to law school, but I imagine a lawyer with a prior charge of stalking young women… well, he probably wouldn't be a very popular choice, now would he?"

Feeling his face flush, Raoul didn't bother responding. He was so humiliated, all he wanted to do was leave and forget the whole stupid idea had never occurred to him.

"I believe the legal jargon for this situation, counselor, would be… case dismissed?"

Clenching his jaw, Raoul nodded tersely and muttered one last half-hearted apology.

"Oh, and, Mr. Chagny," Erik said, getting to his feet as Raoul hastened for the door.

Raoul turned around, looking back at Erik sullenly.

"Next time you decide to beard a lion in his own den… don't."

Seething with both humiliation and indignation at being so thoroughly embarrassed, Raoul walked stiffly from the room, hoping he never had to lay eyes on Christine's music teacher ever again.

-o-

**A/N:** Before the few Raoul-friendly people yell, Raoul really did have good intentions. I was not intentionally making an ass of him… well, Erik was, but… Erik would. :)

Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
